


The Worthwhile Fight

by streetlightsky



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-04
Updated: 2015-01-16
Packaged: 2018-02-03 08:34:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 28,819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1738121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/streetlightsky/pseuds/streetlightsky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Objectively, Grant Ward was one of the more popular guys of the senior class. Not necessarily because of his sparkling personality or adorable charm, but rather because of the sheer stature of the guy and his no-nonsense attitude. He had the brooding, bad boy manner down pat, but when he cracked one of his rare smiles, it was infectious. Good grades, good looks, played on the football team. He would be a golden boy if he participated in more activities instead of keeping to himself.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>On a more personal level, he was Jemma’s neighbor and the object of her affections since the eighth grade. But no one needed to know that.</i>
</p><p>High School AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Fall

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be pure fluff and fun, but then it got serious. Oops. Characters don't belong to me. Errors, grammatical or factual, intended or not, do belong to me. Expect some OOCness in voices due to the AU setting. Rated for mentions of abuse.

After the third time it happened, the snickers and giggles during roll call, Jemma couldn’t help but feel bad for this girl. First in Spanish, then in her literature class, and now in calculus, she found herself seated next to the new student who insisted that her teachers call her Skye and not the legal name printed on the attendance sheet.

Jemma didn’t blame her. Mary Sue Poots was really a rather awful name.

Right after Poots was Simmons and these three classes together was more than the number she shared with Fitz. Each time they took their assigned seats, Jemma gave the girl a light smile and observed her a little more. Everything down to her clothes and speech screamed out-of-town. But then again, Jemma didn’t know anything about her, where she came from, or her personal history. For all intents and purposes, Skye probably thought everyone in this quintessential suburban town in Massachusetts was equally as peculiar. Snobby might be the better term; Everton sort of had that kind of reputation.

As her teachers read their respective syllabi and droned on about expectations, Jemma still couldn’t get over the fact that not a single course on her schedule matched up to Fitz’s. It was near impossible considering they always took the same classes and levels, minus her Spanish studies and his preference for German. The school counselor had been so nice to her over the years and placed her in all the right blocks with almost all the right teachers. But now things had gotten a little too screwy for Jemma’s liking.

When the bell rang, she let everyone else rush out and waited back to extend a friendly hand to her seatmate.

“You have lunch next, right?” she asked Skye.

“Um…” The girl scrounged around for a badly folded piece of paper. “Well, I didn’t eaten yet and according to this, I’ve only got one more class left, so…” she deduced. “Is that what the dollar sign means?” Jemma giggled. She knew people who had been here all four years and still could not figure out their appointed lunchtimes.

“Yeah, come on. You can sit with us, if you’d like. Fitz could use a new friend,” she said as she swung her bag over her shoulder. “And I’ll tell you what the dollar signs mean.”

\--

“Let me see your schedule?”

After introducing Skye and Fitz, Jemma set out to help the girl become better accustomed to student life at Everton High. Transferring as a senior couldn’t have been easy. Jemma remembered when her family moved from across the pond and starting fourth grade halfway through the school year in a new continent. With the social pressures added onto her unusual educational situation, she never quite found the right balance of both in her life which left her on the outside looking in for more than a couple of years.

Smoothing out the wrinkles of the crumpled piece of paper, she made a mental note of the classes Skye was taking before deciphering her particular periods for lunch.

“We’ve got physics together next,” Fitz commented as he looked on.

“Are you joking? How do we not have any classes together this year?” Jemma protested, finally voicing her frustration and incredulity on the subject.

“It was bound to happen, Simmons,” Fitz answered. “If you take every single class and calculate the number of–”

“I know the calculations, Fitz. But they’ve always been in our favor!” Her friend only shrugged before taking another bite out of his sandwich. Jemma sighed and turned her attention back to the other girl.

“You have third lunch everyday. Ninety-five percent of seniors do. Look.” She flipped the schedule over in hand so now it was facing Skye. “See? Dollar signs on both lunch blocks. That means third lunch.”

“One is second lunch,” Fitz chimed in.

“And none means first, but that’s what freshman get,” Jemma explained before handing the timetable back to its owner. “It only gets tricky when you have free blocks during that time. Then you can pick and choose, but it might get confusing because you can lose track how many bells have rung.”

“Right. Sure,” Skye responded and gave Jemma an appreciative smile, though her tone wasn’t quite as convincing.

Navigating through the schedule was the least of her problems. The style and attitude of Everton High might be considered an acquired taste for some people – an image that mirrored the town’s prestige. Nonetheless, high school would always be high school. There would always be homework, tests, grades, parties, recklessness, and teenagers with their angst. No one was immune to the drama that was adolescents trying to figure out the world they lived in.

\--

Walking out of her counselor’s office, Jemma almost wanted to cry.

It was like a bad dream happening all over again. She would describe the situation as nightmarish without a doubt. She swore to herself that she would do whatever it took to avoid this circumstance and had carefully dodged such misery for eleven consecutive quarters. But now, she found herself trapped in the completely incompetent system that refused to enroll her in the handful of selected physical education classes she personally deemed tolerable. And it was their fault they hadn’t properly fit in her final few fitness credits in the first place.

“Guess what they put me in. Just guess,” she huffed at Fitz and Skye in the hallway once her dismay became irritation.

“Tackle football.” She shook her head.

“Volleyball.”

“So? Sounds fun,” Skye commented. Jemma rolled her eyes. After learning that Skye had been homeschooled for most of her life while bouncing between different foster homes, she didn’t expect her to understand.

“You have yet to experience the absolute unnecessary competition teenage boys with copious amounts of testosterone engage in during high school gym classes,” she explained. Even thinking about it brought out her disdainful tone.

Fitz had a free block during that period, of course he did. And that made the class all the more dreadful – knowing that there was no one she could stick it out with. Even if she could fly under the radar in the first session when the teachers just made the students congregate on the gym bleachers for the duration of the hour, no part of Jemma looked forward to subsequent classes where her volleyball skills, or lack thereof, would be put on display for everyone to see.

What made it unequivocally worse than she initially imagined? The fact that Grant Ward strolled through the doors right before the late bell rang.

As if Jemma didn’t already have enough to worry about.

\--

“Who’s Grant Ward?” Skye asked.

Objectively, Grant Ward was one of the more popular guys of the senior class. Not necessarily because of his sparkling personality or adorable charm, but rather because of the sheer stature of the guy and his no-nonsense attitude. He had the brooding, bad boy manner down pat, but when he cracked one of his rare smiles, it was infectious. Good grades, good looks, played on the football team. He would be a golden boy if he participated in more activities instead of keeping to himself.

On a more personal level, he was Jemma’s neighbor and the object of her affections since the eighth grade. But no one needed to know that.

“The tall guy over there.” Jemma nudged her head in his direction and Skye’s eyes followed.

“Oh! Him? He’s in my computer science class.”

“What?!” Skye shrugged, naturally oblivious to Jemma’s interest.

“What’s the big deal?”

“Simmons is–” Fitz started, but Jemma quietly pressed down on his foot under the table before he could say anything else. Fitz might be her best friend and obviously pick up on some things, but that did not mean she openly talked to him about specific topics, especially boys.

“Just worried about having to go up against him in competition,” Jemma smoothed over. “Or worse, being on his team.”

Normally, she didn’t care about what anyone else thought. Despite her unique circumstances, she was really no different than the others. Jemma didn’t need to muddle her mind with pointless apprehension about whether her every move would be approved by the rest of the student body. The truth was that after graduation, she wouldn’t keep in contact with most all of them. She would move on, as would they, and that would be it.

But things with Grant just seemed different in her mind. She barely even knew the guy, but somehow, he was placed in a separate category – not amongst the blurred faces she would never see again or alongside people like Fitz, but in his own little space occupying her brain.

That was who Grant Ward was.

\--

“So, is the pep rally a thing to actually go to or…?”

“Our school has a pep rally?” Fitz asked in genuine surprise.

“Yes, Fitz. Just because we don’t attend those kind of school functions, doesn’t mean they don’t exist,” Jemma said and rolled her eyes before answering Skye’s question. “I can’t. I have dinner with my parents.”

“Sounds serious. Whatja do?”

“Nothing!” Jemma defended as the other girl grinned. She and Skye had become friends pretty quickly, which actually proved to be an odd combination considering her tendencies to shy away from anyone and anything remotely spontaneous. “It’s just tradition. My parents always take me out to dinner on my birthday.”

“You didn’t tell me it was your birthday!” Jemma shrugged. Birthdays, most holidays really, were never big events in her family. “What, no big bash to celebrate your entrance into legal adulthood?”

“Considering that she’s turning sixteen, no,” Fitz said.

“Excuse me? What?”

It wasn’t something Jemma often talked about. She didn’t see the need to. So she had skipped two grades. Fitz did too, though he had done so before Jemma did. It was common knowledge to anyone that paid any attention over the course of the past few years, but she wouldn’t put it past half her grade to not know that tidbit. Skye, being new, had not been informed until now.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know I was sitting with a couple of geniuses!” Skye exclaimed when they explained it to her. Jemma gave a shy smile. As much as she downplayed the entire situation, it was nice to be complimented every once in a while.

The truth was she, and Fitz, could’ve skipped more grades and probably would’ve graduated by now, but her parents didn’t want to push too hard. They wanted their only child to grow up as normally as possible, so Jemma went along with their plans. Occasionally, like when she had been bored out of her mind in AP Biology and AP Chemistry or forcefully put into volleyball class, she questioned whether it had been the right choice or not. But then again, if she had chosen to test out, she would’ve missed all the secret wonders of high school altogether.

Sometimes, not all of it was bad.

\--

“So, I have something to ask you.”

Electing not to take an advanced placement language course, honors Spanish stuck Jemma with review upon review of various verb conjugations and the imperfect tense was definitely her least favorite. The homework had been fairly simple, though tediously long as evidenced by Skye’s half-finished packet she was only now completing with the help of Jemma’s answers. She felt incredibly guilty, but Skye insisted she knew the material after living with a Mexican-American family in Texas for a year.

“As long as it’s not for my math homework,” Jemma quipped. The sly grin that crept onto her friend’s face was not nearly as amusing as the girl perhaps intended. 

“Besides that.”

“What?”

“Do you have a thing for Ward?”

Jemma froze for a second. Was she that obvious? Or was Skye just better at reading people than most? While to most people a silly crush was extremely common and not a big deal, Jemma would really rather keep her feelings under wraps instead of having it be public knowledge.

“No,” she denied as evenly as possible. “Why would you think that?”

“’Cause you kinda singled him out and overreacted before.”

Keeping calm, she continued to negate her affections and explained very generally her disinterest to fall into orbit with said peer and his fellow classmates. Having known Skye for a couple of weeks now, Jemma could tell she wasn’t very good at keeping secrets. And though she let that fault slide, Jemma knew she was better off denying these things. Besides, regardless of who knew, nothing would change.

Jemma wasn’t delusional. She would never be Grant Ward’s type.

\--

From the library window, Jemma couldn’t help but watch an animatedly chattering Skye fall in step with Ward. They had probably come out of their last class together and were now leaving campus with school out. Skye talked with her whole body – hand gestures, smiles, energetic eyes that looked up every time she turned to face her conversation partner.

The exchange seemed pretty one-sided though. Jemma was no lip-reader, but when she had the correct view, she barely saw Ward’s mouth move. Then again, he hadn’t shaken the girl off yet so that meant something too.

“You’re staring,” Fitz commented as he caught her in the act.

“What?” She turned her attention back to the spreadsheets and books on the table.

“Honestly, Jemma. If you’re going to ogle while we work, we should’ve just gone back to my place instead. It’s not like anything in the school library can help us. My mum’s collection would be much better suited for our research anyway.”

Jemma frowned. The last thing she wanted was to be admonished for not putting effort into their project. Everyone knew she always put two hundred percent in all her work. She did all her assignments beyond their minimal requirements and never complained about putting in additional time to go the extra mile. Honestly, half the time she labored over things that didn’t even pertain to her academics. As much as she enjoyed analyzing Shakespeare and learning new Spanish vocabulary, Jemma knew none of that would be of use in her future studies.

“I’m not ogling,” she protested. But it was apparent that her focus had shifted.

Skye was a fun person who could probably bring out the best in Ward. It was hard to be so serious and uptight around someone like her; Jemma could attest to that. Maybe that was what he needed. Maybe that was what he liked.

“Why don’t you just tell her?” Fitz inquired.

“Tell her what?” He gave her a pointed look. Despite her feigned innocence, she knew exactly what he was talking about. There was little if anything Jemma could get past her best friend. “It doesn’t matter. He doesn’t even know I exist.”

“I’m pretty sure he does.”

\--

The tournaments in volleyball started and Jemma was both relieved and disappointed that Ward was not on her team. She managed to serve all right, but still prayed to God that the ball wouldn’t come her way. Thankfully, her other five teammates seemed to understand her lack of athletic skill and mostly covered for her without being snarky or insulting.

Jemma could not care less if her name was inscribed on some stupid plastic trophy they had for whichever team ended up with the best record. This was gym class, for God’s sake! Her life certainly did not depend on whether she could spike the ball over the net. And it wasn’t as if she owed any of her group members anything.

She avoided incident pretty well until one Wednesday in mid-October when the opposing team, which included Ward, decided to get all big and showy. Jemma hated standing in front of the net the most when they rotated positions. If she absolutely had to hit the ball, she put her hands up in a more guarded way than the accurate bump pass position. There was a fifty-fifty shot it would work, but on this particular day, her reflexes were too late and the ball smacked her right between the eyes.

She reeled, but thankfully didn’t fall. Her hand went up to rub the sore spot as someone on her team ran to collect the rolled away ball. Through her fingers, she could see the perpetrator laughing and Ward staring.

“You okay?” She looked up and gave an appreciative nod to Trip. He was Ward’s friend, but had always been nice to her. Perhaps it was because she helped him pass biology sophomore year.

The rest of class went by without another mention of her embarrassing moment. Jemma could only hope that one Brock Rumlow wouldn’t go bragging to his buddies about his ‘amazing spike’ that hit her square in the face; it was still slightly red and pulsing.

During lunch, she forwent the cafeteria and instead headed to the nurses’ office to lie down.

\--

Holding the now warm icepack in hand, Jemma sat up slowly a few minutes before the next bell rang. Her favorite thing about the nurses’ office was that they didn’t ask too many unnecessary questions and just let her be. Her head had stung for a moment, but not the entire lunch period. Really, she just needed to hide for a while.

She knew she was probably making a bigger deal out of it, but she just couldn’t get the image of Ward watching out of her mind. For once, Jemma wanted to remain undetected the way she usually was. Anonymity was always easier for her and she had long accepted that she would never be memorable to him.

Slinging her bag over her shoulder, she returned the compress before heading back to the hallways to face reality and her next physics class only to see no other than Grant Ward.

Her best bet was to look down and away, but her stupid, silly compulsion to always glance at him when he was around betrayed that intention. To her delight and horror, he was staring right back.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Yes, of course.” For someone who felt like melting, Jemma sure kept her composure.

“Sorry about that.”

“You didn’t do anything,” she replied with a shrug. Even if he did, Jemma probably would’ve let him off the hook anyway.

As quickly as it started, though, did it end. The bell rang and the corridor flooded with students sloshing against each other with their backpacks and brazen carelessness as they headed to their next destination – effectively cutting off the short-lived conversation.

But even in the sea of people, Jemma could never lose him in a crowd.

\--

“Hi.”

Holed up in the library during an hour without class, Jemma staked out her favorite table in the back and spread out her books and papers all over so no one would consider bothering or joining her. Sometimes she actually did work. Other times she just liked to read and do People Magazine crosswords for the hell of it. 

Naturally, when she was expecting someone to ask to take a chair, which she was willing to spare, Jemma wasn’t quite prepared to face Grant Ward. Furthermore, she couldn’t believe that she never realized they had the same free block.

“Hi,” she responded with slight surprise in her tone. Well, this was new.

“Um, are you busy?” With her crossword featuring Julie Andrews? No, not particularly. She shook her head gently and looked at him openly. What could possibly have him initiating such an interaction at a moment’s notice for the first time since her family had moved next door?

“Sorry. I just… I have a quiz on these differential equations in fifteen minutes and can’t figure it out. I didn’t know who else to ask and I remember Trip said you were in his class, so I just thought…”

Jemma never considered describing Grant Ward using the word adorable, but maybe this once it was appropriate. She couldn’t help but smile at his unusual discomfort in asking for help. Her help! How could she refuse?

“It’s fine.” Setting her reading material down, she moved to clean up a space for him as he brought over the textbook. “Oh, these,” she commented when she saw the problems. “Fun.”

Seeing his empty notebook, Jemma made it her mission to teach him all that she knew in the easiest and most accessible fashion. Because she was rather good at calculus despite her neutrality for mathematics and her will to help anyone that appeared to need it.

And because sitting across from her was Ward, hanging onto her every word like his life depended on it.

\--

The nurses’ office was a hidden sanctuary at times. Jemma’s stomach had been bothering her the entire day so much that she was afraid to eat. Skye offered her some basic medication, but she refused and instead chose to try and sleep the pain off. She came very close to skipping English class, but forced herself to go to keep her perfect attendance record.

Lying on the corner cot in the back, she rested her eyes, but found her ears entertained by the various issues people came in with – the standard need for cold packs and Band-Aids, one girl with a bloody nose. Jemma had to suppress a smirk when she heard someone ask for condoms. At least the distractions kept her mind off the rumbling pain rolling through her abdomen.

At the unmistakable sound of a male voice, her eyes popped open. Jemma willed herself to just face the wall and ignore him, but she couldn’t. She lied still and attempted to make out the conversation, though had a hard time stringing mumbled words into coherent and complete sentences. Well, it really wasn’t her business anyway. Jemma didn’t want to eavesdrop and hear something she would later regret knowing.

Catching the time on the clock, she eased herself up and successfully avoided looking in Ward’s direction. If she left now, she could still catch Fitz for a few minutes in the commons. She ran her fingers through her hair to comb out any knots and slowly rose to her feet with a wince.

“You okay?”

“Fine,” she answered in a nonchalant manner and stared at anything but him. Why did most of their conversations appear to take place in this particular corner of the school campus? He probably thought she was physically weak and had a poor immune system or something when in reality Jemma hadn’t been sick in years.

“How did your quiz go?”

“Oh. Okay, I guess. I’ll find out when I get it back. But yeah, better. Thanks.”

“Anytime,” she said with a nod. “I’ll… um, see you around,” she muttered in the end before moving to leave. Hopefully, it would be some place more friendly and lively where Jemma didn’t seem so pathetic.

It was only when she couldn’t help but glance back before she left the office that she saw a nurse tending to his bruised face and cut lip.

Where and when did he get those? 

\--

“Did you notice the bruise on Ward’s face?” Jemma asked Skye while they made their way back to her house to work on their Spanish project.

“Yeah, kind of hard to miss. He got so annoyed when I kept asking him what happened. Something about protecting his brother from bullies,” Skye told her. “Don’t know why he wouldn’t want to admit to that. Pretty badass if you ask me.”

After seeing his battered face, Jemma could not get the image out of her mind. She racked her brain through all the tucked away memories of insignificant moments she dearly held onto and realized there were maybe a handful of times she had seen this in the past. She always attributed the discolorations to football incidents because who knew what went on between those guys. Jemma had no reason to believe otherwise or doubt Skye’s explanation, but she didn’t remember anyone else sporting shiners either. 

“How’s that going by the way? You get him to… warm up to you yet?” she asked casually, though she wasn’t sure she wanted to know the answer.

“Pfft. You’ve met him. I’m pretty sure that Grant Ward does not warm up to anyone or anything. Besides, it’s kind of more complicated than that.”

Jemma wasn’t sure if relief was an appropriate reaction, though it seemed to be her current emotion as she let out a breath she didn’t know she was even holding. If Skye and Ward ended up together, then so be it. She would deal. After all, this wasn’t the first girl he had been entangled with. Not that she cared to really to keep track or anything. She was just very attentive, sometimes too observant for her own good.

She knew it was a crush – one that had perhaps lasted longer than usual, but nonetheless something that would eventually pass with time and distance. And some day, she would look back fondly and think how silly she had been the whole time.

He was just a boy, just another guy in a population full of them. But that didn’t mask the fact that sometimes – even with her loving parents, with her friendship with Fitz and perhaps Skye too, and her very bright future outside of high school – he was what she wanted to live for.

It was ridiculous. Jemma knew that.

She didn’t even know him. 

\--

When Skye grumbled at lunch about how Ward went off on her for talking about his apparently private matters with other people, Jemma felt horrendously guilty and remorseful. Because perhaps her friend told her things she wasn’t exactly privy to and she later, in what she considered a brave and risky attempt to exchange two words with him, briefly mentioned something about it.

She should’ve known his hardened face wasn’t a reflex or any kind of referred pain from his physical injuries. But the softer sciences had never been her forte.

Naturally, being who she was, she felt the need to apologize. The last thing she wanted was for him to think she was some kind of untrustworthy gossipmonger. Jemma would never do that to him or anyone.

“Hey, Ward,” she called out as she caught up with him and Trip in the hallway after they had been let out of their gym class early. With it being the last week of the quarter, Jemma would no longer have to suffer through volleyball or ridiculing sports ever again. But with that came most likely the last time she would share a class with him.

He turned with a stern expression that almost made her want to back away. His temperamental reputation was only a rumor to her; she had never seen it in action.

“I… um… I just wanted to apologize. For what I said before,” she said trying not to stumble over her words. “I didn’t mean to… bring it up, you know, if it’s a sensitive issue. Because I didn’t know. That you didn’t want to talk about it.” She lost herself halfway through as his eyes practically stared into her soul – a gaze so intense that she didn’t know what he was thinking or what to expect. Between all of their infrequent interactions over the years, none had him so distant until now.

“I just wanted to say I’m sorry,” she reiterated with a clearer tone. But within two seconds into the silence after her apology, he swiftly turned and walked away.

Jemma was stunned. Had she screwed up that badly? Did she just completely ruin the chances of what they didn’t even have? She felt her face burn and the slight emergence of tears in her eyes because she was genuinely sorry for whatever she did and would do anything to take it back.

In the end, it was Trip who tried to reassure her.

“Don’t worry about it,” he told her as he slowly retreated. “Just… stay out of it.”

Stay out of what?

\--

Jemma easily shrank back behind her invisibility barrier. Back to her safe zone of science projects, bantering with Fitz, and asking her parents to consider giving her an internship at their science division. This was the world she belonged in – a place where she could handle herself and confidently ask and answer questions. It involved homework, a lot of homework, and plausible participation and growth. It did not involve boys or uncomfortable exchanges or intruding into what was clearly none of her business.

This was one of the numerous reasons she didn’t have many friends to begin with. She could handle complicated when it came to the human body and molecules, but not when it involved individuals and their feelings. Jemma could deal with the concrete variables, just not the abstract ones. That was why she and Fitz got along so well; they were on the same wavelength because they were basically the same person. It was easy to interact with people when she could anticipate their future thoughts and actions.

In that sense, Grant Ward seemed like an entirely different species – one she strangely yet desperately wanted to unearth and understand, but still terrified of the possible consequences she might discover underneath the exterior.

In one perspective, Jemma appeared to be a caring and compassionate soul who sought out the truth in hopes to alleviate any burdens one might be carrying. But given her age, the setting, and the nature of her emotions, she was just another teenage girl who wanted to be the one to change a bad boy into a better man.

For such a smart girl, Jemma sure didn’t feel like one by the way anything related to Grant Ward could make her doubt everything she knew and believed.

He made her wish that she could read people better – communicate with her eyes and understand their situations without maneuvering every which way to get the message across. Because when she observed, took in all these details, and tended to think, rethink, and overthink until she found a satisfying and logical conclusion, it took all of Jemma and then some to keep things to herself and not tell him, Fitz, her parents, or the authorities what she believed to be true.

Nothing was what Jemma previously thought. Nothing except for her now deepened desire to show him that she was on his side.

\--

It was all she could think about. In English class when she should’ve been paying attention to people’s presentations. During her free blocks when she stopped in the middle of a physics problem set or some crossword answer. At lunch with Fitz and Skye jabbering away while she continuously glanced across the cafeteria at him. After their last volleyball class, with her team losing the tournament and his winning, at the close of the quarter. When she walked up her driveway after school and simultaneously stared at his house next door. In the middle of writing her essay for Spanish and looking out her window at the lit rooms at the Ward residence.

Trip told her to stay out of it for good reason. He knew too and hadn’t said a word. Whether that was per codes of brotherhood or because he lived in a similar situation, Jemma wasn’t sure. She shuddered to think of the latter. One was bad enough.

The knowledge made her hug her parents more genuinely, argue less with Fitz, try to understand things the way Skye saw them. And for some strange reason, it made Jemma braver.

Heading to the commons after calculus, she caught him going in the opposite direction. Stoic and emotionless as usual, he walked with a determined pace that probably wouldn’t slow for anyone. Jemma believed this was her chance. With no one else around to interrupt or eavesdrop, this was her opportunity to let him know. She had to. She didn’t know how much longer she could keep it to herself.

“Ward.” For an instant, he looked at her and she had all the hope in the world that things would go well. But when his stride didn’t let up, any resemblance of a plan she had went out the window.

“Grant.” Her tiny hand reached out to grab his arm and miraculously, he stopped and turned around. All thoughts were now truly lost when she registered the sheer fact that she could feel the heat of his skin radiating onto her fingers. Her breath caught in her throat as she fully realized their proximity and the fact that she was still holding onto him.

He looked at her and she saw something inside of him for the first time: imploration.

“I know.”

\--

Everything burned. Every emotion intensified. Jemma had always been aware of the daunting, but exciting life outside and after high school, but now with the truths of reality slammed in her face, her optimism for the world faltered.

How could someone like Grant Ward be treated with such malignance?

It weighed on her mind. The thought rolled back and forth as she contemplated the severity, the meaning, a possible course of action, her position. It might not be her place to speak or intervene, but she couldn’t sit and do nothing. And for a girl who couldn’t lie to save her life and had a hard time hiding her emotions, it was obvious how affected she was by this information.

“You’re distracted.” Normally, she called Fitz out on his moments of unproductivity. Not this time.

“I’m not,” she insisted weakly.

“Honestly, Jemma. If you have other important things to attend to, then by all means, go ahead. The last thing I need is you falling asleep–”

“I didn’t fall asleep!”

“Really? I seem to remember one time during dissections in biology when you–”

“That was one time!”

“Then don’t let there be another.” She sighed and set her materials down.

“I just think if–”

“No, no,” Fitz interjected. “Whatever it is, I do not want to know. Don’t say anything. Do not get me involved.” Even if he could keep secrets, Jemma knew she shouldn’t say anything, especially what happened with Skye. In every other conceivable circumstance, Fitz was one of if not the first person she turned to. But in this case, he was better off left in the dark.

Taking his advice, Jemma took off her lab coat and hung it back on the rack before gathering her things to leave. Eventually, she was going to have to figure out what to do.

“I’ll see you later,” she told Fitz. “Call me if you make any progress.”

“Jemma,” Fitz called out without looking up from his computer before she left. She turned her head back towards him. “Is it…?” He didn’t need to finish the thought. Jemma knew exactly what he was asking, what he meant, what his intention was.

“It’s bad, Fitz.”

\--

This was not the way she wanted it to happen. This was not how she ever imagined them getting closer.

In her mind, it was moments like him asking her for more help on his problems sets. It was finding her lack of physical fitness adorable and taking it upon himself to improve her nonexistent skills. It was asking if she needed a ride home after school.

It wasn’t hiding in the back corner during a free block on a Monday tense and wordless because he knew she wouldn’t say anything – enjoyable company, yet rather stressful on her heart. It wasn’t looks that bore into her soul when they passed each other in the hallway – reassuring, but intimidating.

It certainly wasn’t him ringing her doorbell the Friday night after Thanksgiving with cuts and new bruises forming over old bruises.

Home alone, she peaked out a window first to identify the person. Normally, without a car in the driveway, Jemma would’ve ignored them. But assuming it was Fitz who always came over unannounced, she figured she’d be fine. Lo and behold, when she threw the door open, the sight of a battered Grant Ward blew her away.

He stood there, tall and steady, but seemingly vulnerable with his head slightly bowed down in shame when looking at her. His eyes, even with their usual hardness, appeared softer and worn-out. His hands were slack by his sides.

He didn’t speak. He didn’t have to.

A couple of months ago, Jemma would have considered this sad, almost pathetic side of him an egregious fault and outlier in his brooding personality and appearance. Now understanding why he portrayed himself that way, she found herself falling deeper into the thoughts she had so carefully stowed away.

Despite any and every logical definition and explanation and what anyone said, Jemma knew exactly what her feelings were. She knew exactly how she felt about him.

Jemma took one look before pulling him inside, locking the door, and leading him upstairs by the hand.

\--

She sat him down on her bed as she went to the bathroom to retrieve the first aid kit. At sixteen, she had minimal medical expertise and did not intend to ever go to medical school despite her father’s suggestions. But being the daughter of a former physician, Jemma knew a thing or two about cleaning and addressing basic wounds.

When she returned to her room, her eyes bulged at the site of Grant’s bare chest only to narrow at the tainted colors that marked his body. This was unfair for so many reasons. Setting the kit down on her desk, she dragged her computer chair over to sit and got to work on the cuts on his face.

“You don’t have to do that,” Grant commented quietly. “It’s not that bad.” She only glared. Yes, it was bad – maybe not the injuries, but definitely the situation. So yes, the least Jemma could do was try to fix him up.

She tried her best not to react while tending to him, but she couldn’t help it. She winced when he winced. He grimaced and she bit her lip. Jemma could only guess how some of these abrasions were inflicted because clearly not all of them came from a fist. There was little she could about the contusions on his chest so she just hoped to God that a rib hadn’t been fractured or broken.

When all was said and done, she cleaned up and returned the set where she found it. She expected Grant to be back downstairs, maybe even ready to head out again. But there he was, still sitting on her bed the way she left him, shirt on though. Jemma didn’t know what else to do but resume her spot.

“Why’d you come here?” she asked finally after a moment of awkward silence. He shrugged with minimal damage.

“Didn’t want to be there. Didn’t know where else to go.”

“What about your brother?”

“Luca’s fine. I sent him out. He isn’t around.”

“And you could’ve gone out too, gone anywhere.”

“You were most convenient.” She pressed her lips together in an ineffective attempt to suppress a smile.

Jemma didn’t know how he did it. How he pulled charm out of nowhere. How he could dismiss the fact that he had just been physical hurt. How, after everything he endured, was still standing.

\--

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you look at me like that before.”

Jemma could barely comprehend the fact that there was a boy in her room – a boy that was not Fitz – let alone have a decent conversation with him. Her eyes continuously darted between her lap and his face in nervousness. The beats of her heart weren’t quick, but loud, so much that she swore he could hear the rhythmic pounding against her chest.

“Like what?” she replied, not in feigned innocence, but to simply continue the conversation. Anything to keep him here and let this moment last a little while longer. Jemma knew exactly what he was talking about.

“Like I just handed you your first B.” She fought the urge to roll her eyes and glare. But the jab at her expense was well worth the small smile elicited on his face.

“As opposed to…?”

“As opposed to how it’s been for the past four years.”

Jemma stilled at that. She tried to hold his gaze only to lower her head once she felt the blush rise heavily on her cheeks. She squeezed her clasped hands, which told her this was real. This was very real. And happening.

“You knew?” Of course he did. Probably everyone did. After all, she was a horrendous liar. “And you didn’t say anything.”

“You didn’t either.”

“I thought you liked Skye,” Jemma weakly defended.

“Yeah, well, I thought I did too,” he told her. She looked up then. “But, I think we both know that Skye is a little too complicated for me.” Jemma dipped her head in a nod. As much as she liked the girl, her rather spontaneous ways usually meant all sorts of trouble that Jemma didn’t even know existed. “I thought you liked Fitz.”

“No,” she answered quickly, almost snorting at the thought. Her, and Fitz? “No.” Just, no. “He’s my best friend, but, no.”

“Are you sure?”

“Am I sure that there is nothing between Fitz and–” she started, but stopped when she realized where his gaze fell.

 _Oh_.

“Yes, I’m sure.”

She had never been more sure in her entire life.

\--

Jemma would be lying if she said she never dreamt about this moment before. Over the years, she crafted different situations for different scenarios – a particular setting, a specific day and time. There were versions she liked better, suited her taste, and weren’t as extravagant and dramatic as others. She wanted it to be simple and quiet, yet powerful and defining. Various ideas manifested with her growth and maturity, but the thing that always remained the same was the person she shared it with. That was a no brainer.

Yet clearly, nothing in her imagination would ever come to pass. Well, not when it involved Grant Ward.

Not wanting to tip over in her rolling chair, Jemma inadvertently placed her hands on his knees for support. Her eyes were open until the last second – wanting to remember this, document it for later, but still engage in the present. They inched closer and closer until the space in between was eliminated. She felt the heat, the flush, his lips.

But before either of them could fully immerse themselves, both pulled back – him wincing and her left with the ointment still drying on his lip.

So much for her first kiss.

“It’s all right,” she said, effectively cutting off any words he could’ve used to assuage the awkwardness. It was too late anyway. The moment had gone, passed. “I’d rather you heal and be in one piece.”

Regaining her awareness, Jemma returned her hands into her own lap and lowered her head to avert his gaze and mask her rosy cheeks.

What now?

“Are you going to stay?” she asked quietly.

“Not if you don’t want me to.”

“No, no,” she hastily replied. “It’s fine. I mean, I don’t want you to go back if it’s not safe. Well, you could always go somewhere else instead. I’m sure your friends will be better company. The decision is completely up to you, of course. But if you want, you can… stay.”

And he did.

And they parked themselves in front of the television downstairs to watch whatever he wanted because Jemma sure wasn’t paying attention with Grant sitting next to her the whole time. And they shared snacks because God knew with Fitz's frequent visits, there were always snacks ready in the Simmons household. And then, he miraculously fell asleep before she did.

Well, that wasn’t really a surprise. Not with Jemma kept awake by her heart humming oh so loudly.


	2. Winter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like this kind of got away from me, which was why the update was so slow. Hope everything will work out in the end. Additional rating of language in this chapter. And if you hadn't noticed, I changed the title. Wasn't too jazzed about the previous one.

Jemma woke to a doorbell and commotion in the kitchen. Her bleary eyes glanced at the clock reading quarter to ten before she shut them and burrowed in her blankets against the chill morning. How did she even get into her own bed? The last thing she remembered was secretly, but probably not so secretly, watching Grant sleep on her couch downstairs. But now in daylight with him nowhere in sight and the prospect of her parents–

She sat up abruptly at that thought. Despite knowing her parents to be considerate, understanding, and compassionate people, under no circumstances did Jemma want them returning home to find out a boy that wasn’t Fitz had stayed over without their permission. It didn’t matter if they shared a bed, if Grant was in a different room, or even if he was on his way out. Under this roof, their word was law.

Tying her hair up, Jemma grabbed the hoodie by her bedpost and tugged it on as she ventured downstairs. The voices in the kitchen got louder as she padded down the stairs. They sounded pleasant and not angry or suspicious. And surely, if Grant was still here and they caught him – because Jemma knew her parents would – there would be stern and loud voices and her father telling her to get out of bed and explain herself.

“Well, look who finally decided to wake up.” Four cheery faces greeted her – none of which lived next door.

“How was the conference?” she asked as her mother put an arm around her in an embrace.

“Boring, as always,” her father replied with a grin. “We’ll leave you all to breakfast.” Jemma waited until her parents left the room before slumping onto a stool and dropping her head into her arms on the counter.

“We totally thought you forgot, so we were going to do breakfast in bed instead,” Skye commented as she mixed the pancake batter while Fitz was still rummaging around for plates and silverware. Was it really Saturday morning? Jemma completely lost track of time. “You look like you just woke up from a nightmare.”

“Close.”

\-- 

Despite her various fantasies, there were no differences at school before and after her so-called first kiss. No Miss Popularity treatment overnight or suddenly becoming the most hated girl in school. No glamorous power couple handholding down the hallway. No gossip, no rumors.

Nobody knew. And for now, that was the best-case scenario.

Jemma didn’t even know where she stood herself. She could overanalyze as much as she wanted, but at the end of the day, the decision lied in Grant’s hands. He had much more to consider taking on a relationship, or whatever they had together. Jemma refused to bring additional complications to his life knowing how troublesome it already was.

That, however, could not mask the underlying giddiness brewing her in stomach ever since Thanksgiving break.

“She’s sick, right?”

“No. No, Simmons doesn’t get sick. There has to be another explanation.”

“First prize at the science fair?”

“No, that’s definitely not it. Especially since we always do the project together, have won for the past three consecutive years, and, oh yeah, the science fair is in May!”

“Well, she’s not that hard to read! Obviously something happened over break and you’ve been best friends forever, so why don’t you–”

“Oh, will you two stop it!” Jemma exclaimed as she rolled her eyes. Skye and Fitz continued to scrutinize her seemingly new mood as they now sat across the lunch table from her and traded ideas back and forth as to what could’ve possibly happened to change her disposition.

“We’re worried, seriously,” Skye said and put a hand over Jemma’s in mock concern. “Did you hit your head or something? Secretly go out to some raging college party without us over the weekend?”

“No! That was you over Columbus Day weekend, remember?” The amount of mayhem Skye got herself into was a level Jemma thought unparalleled. Though considering her lack of experience in that area of life, she really didn’t have anything to compare it to. “Besides, why does something have to be wrong? Can’t I just be… content?!”

Her friends looked at each other for a second before resuming their speculation.

“Yeah, definitely something wrong.”

“Agreed.”

\--

“Hey.”

Jemma took care to not press the two major issues regarding Grant. Though she had rather definitive opinions on both subjects, she remained passive. One problem wasn’t necessarily hers to solve. The other she had no idea how to approach.

“Hi,” she replied, walking towards him by his car late after school. He looked a lot better. Back to his normal self. Like he hadn’t been struck in the face. Like Jemma never had to tend to his wounds. “I haven’t seen you since…”

“Yeah,” he said with a slight smile. It was all Jemma needed to know this conversation wouldn’t be butchered and fall into an abyss of awkwardness. “I got out in time?”

“I assume so since nobody said anything. I don’t even remember…”

It clicked easily then with him standing right in front of her. After eliminating her father as a choice, the only other logical explanation as to how she made her way to bed without any recollection of doing so was that–

“You carried me. To bed.” And it was a big deal. Huge. Because how could she not remember being in his arms for the first time?!

“Your couch is comfortable, but not that comfortable.” This time, albeit the smile, she did roll her eyes at him. “Anyway, I wanted to–”

“I know.” The precautions were necessary. But with her, he didn’t have anything to worry about. “It’s your secret. I won’t say anything, I promise.”

She wanted to, though. Because it wasn’t right that Grant had to live that life. He didn’t deserve it; no one did. Jemma didn’t know how he just accepted it, shouldered the burden to protect his brother, and handled all that responsibility. Naturally, she wanted him to resolve things sooner rather than later. But for now, the least she could do was try and make life easier for him.

“I’ll… see you around…” she said as she turned to leave. She fought the urge not to glance back, especially when she could look at him for days on end.

But maybe, just maybe, she didn’t have to deny that compulsion anymore.

“Jemma.”

She turned easily, willingly, with hair lightly flying behind her at the twist of motion. Her eyes met his for the only brief moment she needed to figure out his intentions. And in one fell swoop, with the feeling of his lips on hers in a searing kiss just like in the movies of her dreams, Jemma swore she died and went to heaven right then and there.

“I thought I’d make it up to you.”

\--

Unsurprisingly, Skye was the first to figure it out. Her and her nagging and prying and out loud thinking did all the work. Jemma was clearly the easiest to crack. There was no need for verbal confirmation; the shade of pink she turned when Skye listed that distinct possibility out of all the various options she laid out made it painfully obvious. The shriek and scene made it embarrassingly worse.

“I knew it!” Jemma only frowned with her bright red face hung low. “I knew it. I knew it! Did I not call this like the first week of school?! And I was the new girl too!”

“Keep it down, would you?” Jemma hushed as she ushered Skye into the building and away from the curious eyes and open ears of all the students in the quad.

“And you even tried to deny it!”

Of course she did! Jemma couldn’t bear the idea of having that secret come out regardless of current events. It was for no one else to know. It was her own thing, her personal thoughts – something worth more in solace and secrecy than shared.

“It’s not a big deal,” she commented quietly.

“What do you mean, it’s a huge deal!” Skye exclaimed. “You just bagged one of the most popular guys in school!”

“I did not…! What does that even mean?”

“It means,” Skye said pointedly with much too much enthusiasm for a bystander. “That guy over there? Walking in our direction right now? He’s totally your property.”

“He’s not an object!” Jemma defended. Under no circumstance did she consider Grant some sort of prize. He wasn’t an award presented to her after successful completing and winning some chase or competition. Yet watching as he approached from the other end of the hallway, Jemma couldn’t help but shyly smile. “He’s just…”

“Yours.”

\--

“I’m sorry about Skye,” she later told him. “It’s completely my fault. I didn’t even say anything, but you know how she is. Won’t take no for an answer and always pestering until she–”

“It’s fine.”

Clinging onto the straps of her backpack, Jemma met Grant’s gaze with an apologetic look on her face. Standing on the edge of the sidewalk only barely made up for the height difference between them. But it was the closeness she paid more attention to.

He was right there, right in front of her. She had his undivided attention. He willingly gave it to her. Jemma wasn’t sure how she managed to stay so composed.

“Are you… okay? With this?” she asked. It was as if she was giving him a way out – allowing him to pull the plug on the whole ordeal before it went too far. If he backed out now, she could still take the rejection with poise and grace. Jemma couldn’t guarantee that same reaction to bad news in the future.

“Are you?”

He always managed to do that somehow. Turn the tables in some way. Take the spotlight off of him and make light of his situation. Grant made her matter more, which was heartwarming and heartbreaking all at the same time.

Jemma nodded assuredly.

“Good.”

His finger gently lifted her chin up as his lips descended and she stood on her tiptoes to rise and meet him. This was the third time, not that she was counting or anything, and still, the electricity persistently present. The energy bubbled and streamed and poured through her every fiber. It wasn’t just excitement. It was calmness. It was assurance. It was finally finding the right state of being.

If Jemma got all that from a six second kiss, she could hardly wait to see what else was in store.

\--

The first snow of the season fell during English class. Sitting on the outer circle of the Socratic Seminar, Jemma watched the tiny white specs turn into thick flakes gathering on tree branches and car tops outside the window as the inner circle droned on about themes and motifs of James Joyce’s _Dubliners_.

A kick on the shin later and Jemma noticed Skye’s worksheet now sideways across both their desks with a note at the top. She wanted to know how her date with Grant went. Jemma only shook her head.

She didn’t really understand why her still very new love life was such an interest to Skye. Or maybe that was because Jemma never actually had a decent girl friend to talk to about these things.

“I don’t know what you want me to tell you,” Jemma said as she and Skye walked to their last class of the morning. “We just did stuff.”

“Like what? Specifics! Did you take each other’s clothes off?”

“What?! No!” she shrieked in horror before swatting at her laughing friend. “We just kind of drove around and… talked,” Jemma recounted. Skye raised her eyebrows – clearly not impressed and looking for more. “I don’t know! I’ve never done this before so it’s not like I have any expertise. And it’s not like I’m going to complain either,” she stated as a matter of fact. “We just spent time together. What more do you want?”

“You may not have the experience, but I know he does.”

“Wait, what? How do you know that?”

“I talked to Trip,” Skye answered simply.

“I’m sorry, you what?” Jemma grabbed Skye’s arm and abruptly stopped a few feet short of her next classroom. “You and–”

“Chill, okay? It’s going to be fine. I’ll talk to Ward. You know, knock some sense into him. I have reason to believe he’s a smart guy, so he’ll get the picture. And you’ll get everything you wanted, okay? It’s going to be great! See you at lunch!” Skye spewed out quickly before giving a perfunctory wave as she rushed off leaving Jemma utterly flummoxed and anxious as to what that girl had up her sleeve.

\--

The last week of school before Christmas break blurred by where everyone, including Jemma, seemingly cared much more about their vacation plans than finalizing projects and essays. Every year, she and her parents made their annual trip back to England to spend the holiday with their extended family. Jemma always looked forward to seeing her relatives.

Standing in the midst of a half-packed suitcase and piles of folded and unfolded clothes, Jemma fished her phone out her pocket after it vibrated and displayed a new message from Grant. Her eyes brightened as she made her way downstairs to open the door for him.

“Why don’t you wear a jacket?” she admonished seeing him with only a thin and fraying sweatshirt on in the blistering cold winter.

“I don’t need one,” he answered simply, though visibly shivering. Her hands reached for his, but Grant ended up pulling her into him. Body heat was a much faster solution anyway. “You’re parents aren’t home?”

“Not yet.” Jemma hadn’t exactly told them about her relationship with Grant. In due time of course, because, well, everyone knew she couldn’t uphold a lie for very long if at all. But it wasn’t like Jemma knew how to go about telling her parents that their little girl suddenly had a boyfriend and that he conveniently was their next-door neighbor.

“You want to come up? I’m in the middle of packing.”

“No, it’s fine. Just wanted to see you before you left.” Jemma refrained from asking if anything was wrong. She was still getting used to the fact that maybe he came to her because of her and not because there was trouble at home.

“Are holidays good or bad for you?” she ended up asking.

“Both, maybe,” he told her with a shrug. “I never really know until it happens.”

She didn’t like the idea that Grant didn’t know what he was dealing with, which version of his father he would receive. She didn’t like that she would be more than three thousand miles away if things went badly. Of course, Grant was a big boy and could certainly take care of himself, but that didn’t change the fact that Jemma was attached and felt the need to be there for him no matter the circumstances.

“Just… stay safe, okay?” she asked of him. He leaned down to press a kiss on her forehead.

“Okay.”

\--

Miraculously, New Years Day landed on a Thursday, which meant that with parent-teacher conferences the next day, classes resumed the following Monday. The flight back to Boston landed Friday night and thus gave Jemma the night to sleep in her own bed and try her best to fight jetlag before Fitz and Skye came bustling in the following morning for their usual Saturday breakfasts at her house.

“Well, aren’t you a ray of sunshine this morning,” Skye teased at Jemma’s groggy face.

Knowing full well what Fitz did over his vacation, most stories revolved around her adventures across the ocean and whatever mischief Skye got herself into while they ate. Jemma swore up and down that the New Years fireworks display in London was and would always be far superior to the ones in America even though the only time she saw them in the States was on TV when they first moved here. Skye briefly mentioned that her ex-boyfriend from Texas called her. And well, it was finally Jemma’s turn to raise her eyebrows in suspicion.

Every once in a while, she glanced at her phone in anticipation that it would ring. She hadn’t heard from Grant since before she left and didn’t know whether the silence meant all was clear or all hell broke loose.

After sending Skye and Fitz off on their merry way, Jemma spent the rest of the day mostly napping and unpacking. Yet standing alone in her quiet house, she couldn’t help but wonder what, if anything happened next door.

Maybe the Wards had some sort of revelation where family dynamics were coming to a resolution for the better. That issues were finally being sorted in attempt to create a safer and kinder home. That Grant no longer had to carry such a weight on his shoulders.

Or maybe the holiday brought out more dark moments – as black and intimidating as the house currently stood in the night. A family holiday had been the antithesis of what was needed and only reminded them of how dysfunctional things were.

Maybe Jemma just thought too highly of herself. That perhaps Grant didn’t need her as much as she liked to think. That he was perfectly fine without her. That there was absolutely nothing she could do and was more of a nuisance than a blessing. That she was a mistake.

Interestingly, but unsurprisingly, Jemma was all too ready to accept that things between her and Grant could and would end that easily. She still saw herself as someone in the background, a forgettable person despite her academic achievements. She was used to that.

Jemma would never get used to opening the door to her boyfriend’s beaten face.

\--

“Your parents?” were the first words out of his mouth when Jemma pulled him inside.

“At the lab catching up on everything they missed,” she answered. Thank God. “What happened?”

“Bad holiday.”

He sat on the arm of the couch in the living room while Jemma got up close to inspect all the latest contusions. Every time he winced when she pressed on the more tender sections, her heart plummeted.

“Did you at least get yourself checked out?” she asked. His silence told her no, which only made things worse. Once or twice was maybe excusable, but at the constant rate that Jemma believed this abuse was occurring, she felt that warranted more than a simple visit to the school nurse. “What about your brother?”

“I took care of him. He’s fine.”

“But you’re not,” Jemma insisted.

“It’ll heal,” he said indifferently.

The comment bothered Jemma a lot more than she let show. His expression was stone cold matching his seemingly apathetic attitude. But if Grant allowed himself to reveal his tattered state to her, surely he was seeking some sort of refuge. Did he honestly not care about himself enough to end this horrible situation or was he just trying to appear masculine in front of her?

“You said you’d stay safe,” she murmured.

“I’m safe now.”

Standing in between his legs, Jemma fell into his embrace with a solemn sigh. It was supposed to be the other way around. She was supposed to be the one comforting him. He was the one with the predicament. But instead, Jemma found herself unraveling and being held.

This was one of a handful of reasons why she hadn’t told her parents about Grant yet. This was why she really didn’t know what to make of their relationship sometimes. It wasn’t just a boy and a girl, their mutual attraction for each other and finding the correct balance and role for each other in their respective lives. It wasn’t a simple, clean-cut, cute and fun romantic comedy they were playing out. It was the real and hard truths of life they were braving.

And out of all the possible guys Jemma could’ve had a thing for, Grant Ward was one hell of a person to choose.

\--

Jemma walked into her first physics class of the new year to see all her classmates lined up against the wall with their backpacks still in hand, which only meant one thing: the teacher rearranged the seating chart. As if seniors weren’t capable of picking suitable seatmates and lab partners. Okay, well, maybe they weren’t completely wrong about that, but this was an AP class. They were more mature. Mostly.

Trip turned out to be her new partner and considering all things and every student in the class, it was a blessing. The previous girl she worked with was tolerable, but not nearly as focused as she should’ve been.

“How was your break?” Jemma asked casually as the rest of the class waited for their new seats.

“Good. Yours?”

“Fine.” Up until the part where her boyfriend showed up with a slightly distorted face.

She was somewhat surprised that Grant even showed up to school, but a beating hadn’t stopped him before. If anything, rumors would run rampant on how he had been in some epic fight or intense wreck to bolster his image across campus. Which of course mixed Jemma into the swirling conversations because it was not so much a secret anymore that they were seeing each other.

“So, um, did you see Grant over break?” she questioned gently. She could see the hesitation on Trip’s face.

“Uh, yeah. I did.”

“And… I mean, if you don’t mind… I don’t want to sound intrusive or anything, but if you know what’s going on, maybe you could shed some light on the situation?”

She felt bad about doing this – ambushing Trip into giving her information she was too afraid to directly ask Grant for herself and putting both of them in a difficult position where their respective relationships with Grant might be compromised.

“Look, I told you to stay out of it before. But now that you guys are together, it’s really up to him what he decides to share. All I can tell you is that it got bad over break. He got his brother out before the damage was done and crashed at my place for a while. Skye texted me when you got back. I told him. That’s it.”

Jemma nodded in understanding and appreciation. Perhaps she just needed verbal confirmation from another source to reassure herself of what happened, his condition, and that his whole vacation was not a repeated loop of one sickening day.

“Let him handle that stuff. He can take care of himself,” Trip told her. “You’re good for him, so focus on that.”

Easier said than done.

\--

Telling her parents went better than she thought. Her mother gave this knowing smile that was both comforting and infuriating at the same time. Because of course her mother knew. Jemma didn’t know how she knew, but it really shouldn’t have been a surprise that she did. Her father endearingly tried not to react in the typical paternal fashion, but in the end just made sure she knew where her priorities lied.

Jemma did try to take Trip’s advice into consideration. After all, he had been Grant’s friend for much longer than she was his girlfriend. And once they settled into a comfortable routine of each other, there wasn’t a reason in the world that could make Jemma doubt the permanence of Grant’s influence on her happiness.

They consistently occupied her favorite table in the library during their free periods together. During those blocks, Jemma didn’t need to dump all her things out on the table just to look busy. With Grant there, people knew not to bother them.

She sat with him and Trip at lunch once when Fitz was sick and Skye nowhere to be seen. Well, Grant and Trip came to sit with her because she probably looked pitifully lonesome by herself.

“Go sit with your own friends,” she quipped and nudged Grant’s shoulder. Judging by his sly grin and Trip’s laugh, clearly she missed something.

He drove her home during a snowstorm that cut the school day short. Jemma sat in the backseat with him driving and Luca riding shotgun. It was awkward at first because though she and Luca clearly knew who the other was, they never interacted until this point.

“Did my brother tell you he’s ticklish?” Luca randomly commented.

“You know, I can always pull over and you can walk home instead,” Grant warned. Jemma only giggled.

And after Luca revealed one or two more things on the rather embarrassing side about his brother, Grant stopped the car in front of Jemma’s house, promptly made his brother walk those few hundred feet home in a blasting blizzard, and climbed into the backseat to kiss her like he’s never done before.

\--

Grant spent a lot of time at Jemma’s house – of course only after officially meeting her parents. Her mother was charmed pretty quickly and Jemma surprisingly even got a nod of approval from her father. Well now, if she knew it was going to be that easy, she would’ve taken action sooner!

Most of the time they would study together. Or rather, she studied and he watched. Or halfway through a problem set, Jemma would realize that she had been doing all the work for him, which was completely unacceptable and not nearly as amusing as the smile on his face when she tossed the work back to him.

Sometimes they watched aimless television. _Storage Wars_ was a favorite of his if not ESPN; Jemma quite enjoyed the Food Network. And if a _Harry Potter_ marathon was running, she kept the channel on that.

And then there were moments alone where Jemma marveled at the fact that the boy kissing her was hers. Like, hers in the way Skye previously described it hers, which was pretty amazing.

Jemma invited him over for Saturday morning breakfast with Skye and Fitz once, but he was hesitant to come. Partly due to him not wanting to intrude on their time. Mostly since he didn’t want to leave his brother alone with the questionable status of their father in the air. But Jemma put on a sweet smile sealed with a kiss and lo and behold an extra knock on the door with a clean and clear Grant Ward on the other side.

It wasn’t nearly as weird with Skye chattering away and being the glue of the group. Grant shared a class with Fitz back in the day, so they were relatively acquainted with each other too – enough for Fitz to crack a joke and then slap Grant on the back.

Jemma’s breath hitched when she, and only she, saw him stiffen. Fitz’s gesture was meant to be friendly, but given that he didn’t know about Grant’s particular situation, he failed to see the sudden straight back and tense shoulders elicited in the act.

“Are you okay?” Jemma couldn’t help but ask quietly as she took a hold of one of his hands and squeezed it in comfort.

“Yeah, it’s fine.” She looked at him earnestly. “Really. It wasn’t on purpose. He doesn’t know.” He pulled her hand up to kiss it. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Aww, you guys are so sweet,” Skye commented mockingly. “Here, why don’t you whisk some eggs while you’re at it, ‘kay?”

Typical Skye.

\--

It finally began to dawn on Jemma after completing the second quarter that she was going to graduate soon. Senior seminar seemed like just another class. Filling out her college applications wasn’t a big deal. But sitting in homeroom and receiving her second to last schedule ever in high school made her realize that this was it. Things were coming to a close. She was a second semester senior and soon this chapter of her life would be over.

The impending transition wasn’t something she actively talked about with the others. She and Fitz would likely be seeing each other a whole lot more after graduation as long as they both got into their top university. Skye was decidedly done with the whole education system after high school and had no concrete plans, or what she called the best kind of plans, for the future.

Jemma had yet to bring up the subject with Grant. What did the future have in store for them? What conclusions would they make? Jemma wanted to know. She wanted to prepare. Yet at the same time, she knew it was too early to think that far into their future.

After all, they still had many milestones to reach.

The first time he brought her over to his house, Jemma stayed mum on the emptiness of the place. It was just as big as hers next door, relatively clean, but seemingly void of vibrancy. The walls stood blankly white – a simple choice, but bleak with their lack of decor. The only room painted white at the Simmons residence was the lab in the basement. Jemma began to think that a run-in with Grant’s parents wasn’t the only reason he kept her away and preferred her place.

She slowly moved around his bedroom, which wasn’t all that much different than the rest of the house stylistically, but still contained traces of what she knew to be definitively him: a Nerf football, his letter jacket, a messy desk, the particular arrangement of his textbooks. Her eyes briefly glanced at the group of college pamphlets peaking out under his SAT prep book before his voice interrupted her thoughts.

“Not exciting, right?” Jemma shrugged with a small smile. The fact that he relented and brought her over in the first place showed immense trust and care – something much more important than how he kept his room.

She wasn’t there for his four-walled hideout. She was there for him.

\--

Snow stormed down at the start of February and with another day off from school, Jemma ventured over to Grant’s house after her parents left for work. She made sure all signs of his folks had disappeared before knocking on the door, but his surprised and anxious face said it all. Still, he kissed her and pulled her inside from the wet and cold.

She wrangled her way into the kitchen and made breakfast because clearly the Ward brothers, if undisturbed, could sleep until noon and Jemma refused to let them waste daylight. And, well, neither of the guys was really going to turn down homemade pancakes anyway.

It was what she could do to turn a desolate place filled with gloom into one with thriving activity. She would forget about the chapters she needed to read in _Heart of Darkness_ or the Spanish vocabulary words that needed memorizing. Calculus and physics problem sets could wait until later and one day without research wouldn’t kill Fitz in the end.

They pulled out board games and watched as all the news channels continued to report on the storm. Jemma wasn’t sure whether she was exceptionally good or if Grant was just pitifully bad at Scrabble, but she had to hold her tongue from laughing during two blowout games.

“That’s not a word!” he exclaimed on more than one occasion. Jemma only handed him the dictionary as proof. He faired better at Battleship, but who wouldn’t in a game based on pure luck?

In the afternoon, she made them hot cocoa after finding a box of instant packets in a cabinet and let Luca have the living room TV all to himself for his video games. Jemma insisted that they do some plowing before the snow in both their driveways grew mountain-sized, but Grant said he’d call people to do that later.

Besides, shoveling really wasn’t ideal when instead Grant had her leaning against his closed bedroom door in a torrent of fervent kisses that would’ve melted the snow.

\--

Jemma met Grant’s mother for the briefest moment. Sure, she had seen the woman here and there throughout the years, but never once did they interact. This semi-official time wasn’t any different. The woman barely gave her the time of day – just a glance before walking away without even acknowledging her own son. Jemma instinctively looked up at Grant’s stiffened face before lacing her fingers through his to shift his attention elsewhere.

“Is it always like that?” she asked lightly later on. They were up in his room with the door shut though they were the only ones there. Jemma was beginning to believe that Grant had just as much distaste in his own home and she did.

His silence was unfortunately telling: another subject he refused to breach, another issue he seemingly accepted and suffered. Grant never talked about his family – his younger brother barely being an exception. Everything about that part of his life, minus the physical evidence apparently only a couple of people caught onto, was hidden. Bottled up inside and sealed away for no one’s viewing.

To him, it was probably an obstinate weakness. But for Jemma, it was a solvable problem.

She understood his motives, his reasoning. They were in high school after all. Image meant everything and would always be an influencing factor. One peep, one blip, out outlier in the personality he cultivated for the world to see and things could come crashing down. It wasn’t just popularity on the line; it was his present, his future, the only life he knew how to live.

Grant could pretend all he wanted – to his teachers, his classmates, his football friends, to Skye and Fitz. He could act well enough to mask the problems at home and the pains of bearing with brutality. But he couldn’t fool Jemma. Not after years of her observations. Not since they got together. Not with the way she felt about him.

Despite her best intentions and adhering to Trip’s advice as much as possible, there was just no way Jemma could stay out of it forever.

\--

“Why can’t we just stick with our original plan?”

“Because I heard Sharon–”

“Oh, come on! Since when did she have any of the means to pull that kind of project off?” Fitz huffed. “We decided this weeks ago, Simmons! We already started–”

“I know! But don’t you think it would be more impressive if we–”

“Over winning for the fourth year in a row? I highly doubt–”

“Guys!” Skye shouted over the squabbling. “It’s a science fair project. Chill out.”

Jemma and Fitz rolled their eyes at the same time. The project and presentation was a huge deal to both of them, especially in their senior year. Aside from their grades and GPAs, the title and first place win at the science fair this year would not only cement their legacy at Everton High, but also potentially make them reputable names when they started college as they looked for a level of recognition far beyond school and state.

“It’s too late for change, Simmons,” Fitz said in finality. And though Jemma conceded, that was where he was wrong.

Change sprouted everywhere in their lives nowadays. She saw it in the way Skye called this town home despite denying that she would never have a real one. She saw it in Fitz who resisted any alterations in his routine, yet still smoothly accommodated a new friend at his lunch table and his best friend having a boyfriend.

Most of all, Jemma watched change occur through herself. She was not the same girl that started school in September – a person that talked and cared a lot more about science and homework over her interpersonal relationships. Gone was the girl who only wondered and thought about the boy next door. Jemma was no longer just a bright, brilliant, naïve child. She finally opened her eyes, stepped outside her comfort zone of projects and report cards, and saw the world for what it really was.

So if she and the others could adapt, surely Grant could too.

\--

“I’m afraid to leave you.”

Jemma had this trip with her parents planned months ago before she and Grant became an item. She would accompany her parents to their conference in Los Angeles and then do some touristy vacationing sightseeing together for the remainder of winter vacation. But in light of what she returned to after Christmas break, Jemma was now reluctant to go.

“It’s gonna be fine,” Grant reassured her. He always said that. Yet Jemma never felt any better. His words didn’t necessarily mean that he would escape harm, but rather that he could handle whatever came his way. That thought made everything worse.

“I wish you could come.”

“Don’t think your dad would be too happy about that,” he teased.

“You do have a car, you know. You could make a trip with your brother or something. Get away from this place for a while.”

“Yeah,” he answered, though his tone was less than convincing.

“I’m serious,” she reiterated. “I think it would be good for you to get out for a while.” Jemma doubted he would encounter anything worse than his situation at home.

“I’ll think about it.”

By now, Jemma knew that was his way of appeasing her for the time being and but truly having no intention of considering her idea. And it wasn’t that Grant did it often, but the times he did, she was more than aware. Of course it was his life and he knew what was best. Yet no one, not even acquiescent Jemma, enjoyed being tossed aside and minimized.

Maybe she didn’t know what she was doing. Maybe her suggestions really weren’t as helpful as they seemed. But this was a relationship after all, wasn’t it? They weren’t just individuals on separate planes trying to figure out how to incorporate time and space for the other. Their orbits already collided and intertwined. Jemma was woven into Grant’s world just as he was in hers.

Sometimes, she wasn’t always sure he saw it that way.

\--

To say the least, after living in New England for all these years, seventy degrees weather in February was a pleasant surprise that made Jemma wish she packed skirts instead of sweaters. Los Angeles was brighter and more hippie and probably too glamorous for the sedated Jemma who preferred to live a quiet life. But she still had a good time and took plenty pictures to show her friends for whenever she would narrate her various excursions.

The flight from LAX to Logan landed in the evening on Sunday and by the time the Simmons family arrived home, Jemma had nothing but sleep on her mind in order to get up on time for school the very next morning.

Monday was the only day she didn’t see Skye until lunchtime, but that probably saved Jemma a lot of time and energy. As fun as her trip had been, she’d rather tell everyone her adventures all at once instead of repeating herself over and over. And walking through the quad to the cafeteria, she got just that.

Except for the fact that Skye and Grant seemed to be at each other’s throats.

“You have no right!”

“It’s my blog! I can write whatever I want!” Grant loomed over Skye and looked even taller in the heat of the moment with all the aggression radiating off of his stance.

“You have no idea what you’re doing! You don’t fucking write–”

“Hey! What’s going on?” Jemma demanded as she made her way to the scene. She stepped right in between the two as Trip tried to keep Grant at bay.

“Your boyfriend’s berserk!” Skye exclaimed.

“You’re the one who fucking–”

“Stop!” Jemma interrupted. “Someone tell me what happened.”

“Skye wrote a… creative piece on her blog,” Trip informed as inoffensively as possible.

“She used anonymous monikers, but all signs point to Ward and he’s clearly not too pleased,” Fitz added.

“You’re damn right I’m not!”

The blog was not news to Jemma. She knew about it since September and read one or two entries, but didn’t care to keep herself updated. Judging by the unapologetic expression on Skye’s face, Jemma had reason to believe that her friend probably crossed a boundary she didn’t even know existed.

“What did you say about him?” she asked Skye quietly.

“Just that he’ll probably give us a clear definition of why they call tank tops wife-beaters in the future.”

Jemma swallowed slowly. Oh. Lord.

\--

“She doesn’t know. She would never write something like that if she did.”

The edge hadn’t worn off yet. Grant was tense and agitated. Even now, just the two of them after school, Jemma could still see how angry he was. This was different. This wasn’t Fitz giving him a friendly slap on the back. This was a direct shot to his character, his nature. Skye hit it right where it hurt without even knowing.

“I told her to take it down. She did. Right in front of me, I saw.”

Jemma tried to alleviate the situation, ease the tension. It was just a misunderstanding. It was just Skye being Skye. She meant no harm. It was the nature of her writing, the tone of her blog. It was meant to be sarcastic and humorous.

“She doesn’t know, Grant. She didn’t mean it.”

“Yes, she did.”

“No. You know that’s not true,” Jemma insisted. “I know it seems like she has her own way of thinking and doing things, but I know she would never do something like that if she knew the truth.”

Grant only shook his head in dismissal. Jemma understood why this was upsetting and almost disturbing. One minute things were fine and the next it was as if he was being compared to his father. Like he would turn out that way in the future no matter how hard he resisted. That it was in his nature, in his DNA to become the same horrid man.

“You’re not…” She wanted to reassure him. He wasn’t that person. She knew he wasn’t. But the sentiment was harder to express when Grant wouldn’t even look at her.

“Why are you even friends with her?” he suddenly questioned. Her eyes widened at the comment.

“What are you talking about?” She squeezed her hands together in dreadful anticipation. The question was rough, direct. He was accusing her. As if he blamed her too.

“I… I don’t know. I’m just… done.” She watched as he got up and left – not caring to look back or give her any sign of comfort.

What was that supposed to mean?


	3. Spring

Jemma found herself slowly drowning from guilt. She had been easily treading before. Floating, even. But now, she continued to sink in confusion and self-consciousness – painfully aware of her actions and its effects and consequences. What this move said about her. How others viewed that deed.

Everything seemed wrong. Like she made the incorrect choice. Like through her every inadvertent and habitual doing, she hurt someone she cared about.

It weighed on her – the indirect betrayal. Jemma wracked her brain trying to come up with a solution to appease both parties. No one directly asked her to choose, but still, they were all waiting for an answer. One Grant hopefully didn’t just make for her.

In every sane and right mind, there was absolutely nothing wrong about her friendship with Skye. She knew that. There was a balance between the two girls despite their respective backgrounds and personalities. Besides, no boy, no person should ever dictate the kind of people Jemma associated herself with regardless of their intentions.

Still, there was that nagging voice in the back of her mind – a constant reminder of what was on the line. Grant was not more important than Skye, but there was much more to consider in the relationship with the former. And, well, Jemma knew Skye would be just fine with or without her. With Grant though, she didn’t even want to entertain the idea of him on his own.

This wasn’t a situation where all parties could undo things or pretend that the past few months didn’t happen. Jemma could never go back, could never ignore the growth and knowledge she gained. She wasn’t about to turn a blind eye to the horrors Grant endured. He might have accepted his existence to be nothing more than a punching bag, but Jemma refused to do the same.

His life meant something. His life meant something to her.

\--

On the outside, nothing looked broken. They weren’t a couple that showed off, held hands in the hallways between periods, sat together at lunch every single day, founding hiding spots around the campus for make-out sessions. There were only stolen kisses here, acknowledging glances there. Those blink-and-miss moments held little significance in others’ eyes, but were everything to Jemma.

Now, there was a certain coldness Jemma found herself being reacquainted with. Blank stares, unreturned sentiments, unreciprocated warmth. None of that would’ve fazed her before, but three whirlwind months later and she was practically beside herself with apprehension.

She watched the minutes tick down during her Tuesday free block, the one that he also had. No homework to do. No quiz to study for. No new People Magazine crossword.

And no Grant.

This was not a moment where Jemma found some plausible excuses for his absence. She wasn’t stupid. She knew exactly why he didn’t come.

At lunch, one that Grant did not show up in the commons for, Skye and Fitz babbled like there was nothing wrong. They didn’t know anything so of course they quickly returned to normalcy. They went on with their lives and left what they probably saw as some silly argument in the past without a second thought. To them, the situation was done and over with once Jemma made Skye delete that particularly colorful piece of writing. And even if Grant started ignoring both of them, which Jemma had no doubt he was doing, they had no cause for concern.

It was not their problem to deal with.

“Simmons!” Her mind refocused on Fitz’s impatient expression. “You brought the kit, right?”

“It’s in my locker. I’ll get it after school.”

Jemma used to live and breathe for things like research and experimentation. But the project was suddenly not at the forefront of her mind anymore. The first place award didn’t sound nearly as enticing as it did before.

Not when there were other pressing issues at hand.

\--

“Grant.”

He wouldn’t turn around. Her short stature unfortunately produced rather short strides and thus Jemma found herself working up a light jog to try and catch up with him.

“Grant, wait.”

She didn’t like talking to his back, but he wouldn’t turn around. He crossed the parking lot at school without looking out for oncoming cars or slippery patches of ice left from the chilling drop of temperature at the end of February. He just walked. Kept on walking. Didn’t look back. Didn’t take his focus off for one second.

Jemma had seen this determination before. That didn’t make it any less daunting.

“Grant, stop!” she practically pleaded as she caught up to him. Lightly grasping the material of his jacket, she carefully maneuvered to stand in front of him.

He could barely look at her.

“You’re not even going to talk to me anymore?” she asked in disbelief. A lack of verbal communication between them wasn’t always a problem. But now it was possibly the only way to get Grant to acknowledge her at all.

“There’s nothing to say.”

“There’s a lot to say!” Jemma exclaimed, surprising herself at the rise of her voice. There was so much to discuss, so much to figure out. But she could see the walls quickly closing in, boxing him back into his private darkness. After finding ways to knock them down and bring him some light, Jemma was watching her work and results fade and disappear as Grant retreated into himself again.

“Look, I know you’re upset and you have every right to be. But I’m right here. I don’t have firsthand experience, but I get it. I understand. And whatever Skye was thinking when she wrote what she did, which she definitely didn’t mean, shouldn’t be taken so seriously. Which, I know, still doesn’t give her the right to say something like that regardless if she was joking or not, but it’s not true.”

She looked at his face, his blank expression. Not one of confusion in which she had lost him in her rambling, but one of indifference and disregard.

“It’s not, Grant.” She wanted to repeat that over and over. For his sake and hers. She needed him to know that and she needed him to know that she knew it too.

But she could see it; she was too late. The walls found their original foundations and dug deeper to reestablish their boundaries. He was already far and away.

“Stay away from me, Jemma.”

And with that, she was effectively pushed out.

\--

It should not hurt as much as it did. In retrospect, Jemma spent years from a distance and only three months by his side. Hours of watching from afar, days secretly gazing, and months keeping her feelings to herself because she was sure nothing would come of it. Which was why when given the glorious opportunity, when allowed the chance, Jemma took it. She held it, embraced it, cherished it in fear that one day what materialized in her hands would suddenly vanish.

She wasn’t wrong.

Though she always carried herself with the same calmness and light manner, Jemma wasn’t immune to the effects of Grant’s words. Those close to her weren’t oblivious either.

“Is it my fault?” Skye asked gently in Spanish. It was only the first block of the day and already her friend could see the change, the drop in mood, and accurately guess what happened. Still, Jemma had to endure her teacher’s overenthusiasm and penchant for playing upbeat Hispanic music first thing in the morning.

“No.” Though it might be easier, Jemma didn’t blame Skye. Because deep down, she knew it was about more than just her erroneous comment.

Fitz, who surely found out from Skye, didn’t say anything at lunch and Jemma was grateful for that. He knew exactly what his role was; he knew what she needed and it wasn’t a reminder of something that continued to replay over and over in her head.

She tried to busy herself during her free block, but the best she could muster was a couple of lackluster paragraphs for her English essay. Even with her earphones in and her favorite few songs playing on repeat, nothing proved to be a sufficient distraction for her attention.

Her last class, physics, was probably the most awkward. With Trip basically sitting a foot away, Jemma didn’t think she could utter a word to him without prying into any of his insight. Not that it would matter much. Both knew that persuading Grant was a near impossible task to achieve.

After the last bell rang, Jemma headed to her locker in the foreign language building to grab her books before meeting with Fitz to leave for his house. And though she tried to keep her head down, her eyes always seemed to find him. Unmistakably him, even with his back turned. No other senior male student stood above six feet with jet-black hair and wore a leather jacket in forty-degree weather.

At this point, even if she wanted to, there was no way she could forget that face, magnificent or marred. Both images were permanently seared into her mind.

Jemma didn’t know if that was supposed to make her feel better or not.

\--

“Are you quite finished?”

“I still have the last page to do. What’s the rush?”

“You know I condone this kind of behavior.”

“Yeah, and you still hand me your packet anyway.”

Six months in and three months left and Skye still more than occasionally borrowed her homework for answers the hour before it was due. It was cheating, which didn’t sit well in Jemma’s mind. Yet Skye’s words were unfortunately true.

She was a hypocrite. She pretended to be classier, more proper, more mature, and above indulging in teenage crimes and behavior. But Jemma was no better. She said one thing and did the other. She promised to stick by her morals and principles only to become downright helpless and immobile when tested for their validity. She couldn’t so much as snatch her papers away and tell Skye to do her own work.

It didn’t matter that she had the brains or was most likely on her way to one of the most prestigious colleges in the world. If Jemma couldn’t stand up for what she believed in, she would never be taken seriously. Her work was one thing; her character was an entirely different subject.

Adolescence was already a confusing period, defined as this liminal stage of life where one was neither child nor adult. It was a passing-through phase where Jemma was supposed to figure out who she wanted to be, but not yet start to actually personify.

Jemma thought she always knew who she would grow up to be. She thought she was already there, way ahead of the game and crowd. Graduating at sixteen, though not absurd, was still generally considered to be atypical. And surely Jemma was ready for the work, the focus and determination. But was she really ready to become an adult? Was she prepared to represent herself out in the world? Could she speak for herself and defend all she believed in?

Her eyes trailed an all too familiar silhouette passing through the cafeteria and the split second he turned, she caught sight of an image that would never cease to make her sick.

That was the moment she needed – the split second where she decided to finally take a stand, to risk whatever was on the line, and pursue what she believed in.

Jemma grabbed her homework from Skye’s hand and shoved it in her backpack as she stood.

“Hey! I still have the last paragraph to do!”

“You’ll figure it out,” she told Skye.

And without another word, Jemma took off after the only person she truly knew was in the same boat as her.

\--

If Jemma stopped to think, she would’ve realized the boldness of this move. Because it was downright foolish given everything she knew, everything Grant previously tried to keep her out of. She had no idea who else was home, who might open the door, who she would encounter. And in any other situation, Jemma would’ve thought and preplanned before going over to incessantly knock on his door.

Not this time.

“Grant! I know you’re there. Your car is in the driveway! Open the–”

The door swung open to an aggravated Grant. The bruise was small compared to others she previously witnessed, but still a purple-brown blemish that tarnished the face she loved.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he said blankly as he closed the door behind them and crossed his arms to stare down at her. “I told you to stay away from me.”

“Yes, well, that’s not really your decision to make.”

“Did you not hear what I said?!” Jemma almost recoiled when his voice raised a notch in volume.

“That’s precisely why I’m here. It’s not over just because you said so.”

“You have no business–”

“You’re wrong! Why does everyone continue to try and convince me of that? That I’m not involved? That I don’t have a say in the matter? I may not be the one on the receiving end of this physical cruelty, but I know, okay? I can’t just erase that bit of information from my mind!”

“You said yourself you wouldn’t say anything,” he reminded her purposely.

“And I haven’t! But I cannot stand this anymore! You can’t keep showing up with a battered face and pretend that everything’s fine and it’s not a big deal. It’s not okay! You have to tell the authorities. You have to put an end to this!”

“Who are you to give me orders?!” Grant suddenly spat. “You don’t know anything!”

“I’m the one you trusted with your secret. I’m the one you came to when you were hurt. And I most certainly know that it would be for the better if you just reported this abuse already!”

Grant loomed over her with a darkened expression – one that this time did make Jemma shrink back in fear. She could barely recognize the person standing in front of her. There was no feeling, no care. And for the first time, Jemma wasn’t sure that it was just a mask.

“You. You were an easy target. A distraction. You were nothing.”

“That’s not true…” She fought to keep a steady voice, a strong one full of conviction and confidence. But the tears forming in her eyes betrayed all her efforts.

And whatever was left of her courage and bravery, what parts remained of their relationship she had been desperately holding onto, vanished the moment he turned his back on her and slammed the door behind him.

\--

The weekend after she spent as a teary mess. Skye tried to console her to no avail. Even Fitz’s pancakes could not do the trick. She refused to talk, to divulge details. There was a growing part of her that wanted to share everything with her friends, but the smallest fragment of her that still held a certain someone that lived next door in high regard hindered her from doing so. And despite the dire circumstances, Jemma kept her promises.

She wondered if that was the wrong choice to make.

Come Monday morning, the old Jemma made her reluctant return. She devoted all her time to studies and the upcoming science fair. She poured all her energy into school like she was a failing junior instead of a second semester senior. Not a minute was wasted; she couldn’t afford that – not when it allowed her mind to wander.

And when Jemma was on top of her game, more so than usual, she was unstoppable. She raised her hand to answer any and every question her Spanish teacher threw at them. She had copious of things to say about Tennessee Williams’ novel. During physics, she kept conversations with Trip strictly academic and double and triple checked their work and math during labs.

Lunch with her friends consisted of conversations about Skye and her future plans or – surprise, surprise – her and Fitz’s science fair project, which was coming along quite nicely now that she had nothing else to do but fuss and perfect. Free blocks were spent in the same location where she furiously took notes, edited her papers, and completed calculus problem sets in record time.

After school, if it wasn’t Fitz’s place or the library, she would go straight home with a set list of everything she needed to accomplish before the day’s end.

In the end, it was much easier slipping back into her old self and routine than she anticipated. That, however, didn’t make March – already the longest month of the school year without any days off save for one half day and two morning delays due to MCAS – any easier to endure.

At night, when she couldn’t fall sleep fast enough, Jemma wondered if he felt the same way.

\--

Decision letters came in a wave the week leading up to April. She, like Fitz, was only interested in one, though, which happened to be the first to arrive in the mail in a big fat envelope that actually put a smile on her face.

“Did you–” Fitz started when they saw each other.

“I did,” she answered with a nod.

“Me too.”

It didn’t matter if all the other ones were rejections. They were both accepted to their top school. Come September, they would be freshman at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology.

“Was there really any doubt?” Skye quipped and kind of rolled her eyes, but genuinely smiled. “Congrats, guys. That’s awesome.”

“Did you really not apply to any schools?”

“UMass Amherst, to appease everyone. But that’s it. And don’t expect me to attend.”

“What’s so bad about getting a higher education?”

Skye only snorted. “Not everyone loves homework as much as you do.”

“It’s not always about the work,” Jemma tried to explain. “What about the experience of learning, you know? That’s equally as important. Besides, college courses–”

“Rarely have homework assignments. It’s all based on test scores,” Fitz finished.

“Even better,” Skye replied sarcastically. “School just isn’t for me, guys. I’ve made peace with that a long time ago so it’s a miracle that I’m here right now. I mean, what’s wrong with figuring out the world on your own instead of inside a classroom?”

The problem was that the world was cold and unforgiving. The classroom was a beacon of light – a safety zone full of thoughts and ideas pertaining to life, but rarely a showcase of reality. There, Jemma was protected from making difficult decisions, from getting her hands dirty and dealing with things she wasn’t prepared for. Once she got up from the desk and exited the room, once she graduated and was left to her own devices to survive, she was exposed and vulnerable to the troubles of adulthood.

She was only sixteen, for goodness sake. She wasn’t ready to deal with that.

\--

Every other college Jemma applied to also generously offered her a spot at their school. Harvard, Yale, Cal Tech, and UC Berkeley all sent thick envelopes voicing their desire for her with scholarships and honors recognition. But as enticing as the Ivy Leagues were, she and Fitz had their hearts and minds set on MIT practically since freshman year. Still, she was proud of her little pile of acceptances.

The last rebuff she received had been a punch in the gut.

The Wall of Rejection in the commons at school was overflowing at this point. It was one of the few things that Jemma considered to bring the entire class together a little more. They could share their suffering and pain and in turn received support in the mass of rejected and wait-listed dreams.

Jemma didn’t have anything to tack onto the bulletin and would rather not write all over people’s letters, even if it was an encouraging message, but browsed the board when the crowd dissipated after school.

Poor Sharon Carter didn’t get into Brown. Tons of messages in pencil and permanent marker were written on Sam Wilson’s rejections from Cornell and Columbia. UMich apparently did not accept a certain Brock Rumlow. And Mike Peterson had been wait-listed by Dartmouth. There were pages and pages tacked on the wall and Jemma surprised herself by feeling empathy for those she previously didn’t think much of.

Her eyes lingered on a couple of letters to one Antoine Triplett. Duke expressed their ‘very real regret’ while another attempted to console him over a disappointing decision they made. Even with the awkward friendship they had, Jemma reminded herself to offer her sympathies and congratulations for wherever he would be going.

A name visibly missing from the wall was one Jemma tried not to think too much about these days. For the life of her, she couldn’t remember the names of the school brochures her eyes previously glanced over in his bedroom. Maybe his decision not to participate in the senior tradition was similar to hers. Or realistically, he didn’t care to display matters he considered private to the public.

Grant had been wrong about that. She knew things – probably more than he was comfortable with.

\--

She and Fitz completed their science fair project the week before April vacation rolled around. They silently snickered at the panicked faces of those who haven’t started.

The only thing left to do was the boring stuff: typing up the reports and creating a proper presentation to show their work off at the fair. Jemma agreed to do most of the writing if Fitz worked on the display.

This spring break, the final one before she graduated high school, Jemma had absolutely no plans, nothing to do. A lab report only took so long to perfect before she ran out of things to criticize and reedit. She supposed she’d lounge around with Skye for the time being, which turned out to be not nearly as boring as she anticipated.

The girls made lists of things for Skye to do after graduation: places to go, things to try out. It was the wackiest bucket list Jemma had ever seen, but Skye was certainly a perfect match for the randomness and spontaneity.

“Are you going back to Austin?”

“Shut up, no,” Skye answered a little too quickly.

“Well, that means yes,” Jemma said pointedly. “Given your year long passive-aggressiveness, surely you’ve figured out where that relationship is headed?”

It was no secret now that Skye still harbored feelings for that ex-boyfriend of hers in Texas. And everything she had done to prove otherwise was really a ruse to make a guy two thousand miles away jealous.

“It’s not headed anywhere,” Skye stated as a matter of fact. “He’s the one that broke it off.”

“But you told me he called you. And sent you messages,” Jemma argued. “You spent time and energy trying to get him to reconsider all the way up here. Don’t you want to see if it can still work out?”

“Well, are you and Ward going to work it out?”

Jemma pressed her lips together and lowered her gaze. She wanted nothing more than for her and Grant to work things out. But that wasn’t on her anymore. She had said her peace, made her opinion known. He knew exactly where she stood, yet remained behind the security of his borders.

“Sorry, too soon?” Jemma looked up to see Skye’s sympathetic expression – completely genuine and as innocent as she still was despite her own difficult childhood.

“No, it’s okay. It’s just… complicated,” she vaguely explained.

They had no idea.

\--

Fortunately or unfortunately, Jemma became used to dealing with Grant from a distance again. She kept to her side of the street and he stayed on his all the while she occasionally peered out her window to see the lights on in his bedroom. Well, it was night after all and not nearly late enough for any teenager to actually be sleeping, so what did she expect?

In the commons, she stuck to her usual table with Fitz and Skye and he regularly showed up to sit around Trip and their other more unruly friends. For the brief months they had been together, not once did Grant bring Jemma into that world and she had been grateful for it.

Once, during a free block she knew they shared, she saw him walk into the library. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched him walk three paces towards her side before veering in the opposite direction. That had hurt.

Maybe she had been wrong. Despite occupying his own little place in her heart, maybe he was destined to be like most everyone else in her class – just a part of her past. Someone she had luckily been able to spend time with, but perhaps not a person that she would have a lasting relationship with.

Because in reality, though Grant had been the one to break up with her in a cold-hearted manner, Jemma realized soon afterwards that she could never be with him properly if he chose to ignore the unjust cruelties of his life.

If only things were different. If Jemma was braver or stronger, or if she never found out the truth, then maybe she wouldn’t be in this predicament and constantly struggle wondering how he was and if he was okay and whether she was making the right decision keeping silent. If Grant hadn’t been so poorly neglected by his parents or if he would just open up a little more, then perhaps he wouldn’t grouch and grumble and always be on the defensive with people that supported him.

But that wasn’t in Jemma’s control. There was nothing she could do to change the situation. She could and would continue to care, but she couldn’t force him to do anything. He had to see it for himself and recognize that the monstrosity of his father’s abuse was not a burden to accept. And if he finally relented, reported the brutality he faced, and acknowledged his need for help, then Jemma would be the first one by his side with unconditional support.

Naturally, the Friday evening of spring break when Jemma walked back from Skye’s house to her own and saw a police car in the Ward driveway with its silent sirens flashing away, she did not hesitate to run towards his door.

\--

Jemma vaguely caught a glimpse of the man sitting in the backseat of the police cruiser, but didn’t stop to dwell on the scene and all its implications. Her feet carried her forward, desperate to see one particular member of the Ward family.

Once she passed through the front door, her eyes searched for Grant and the minute they made contact, she flew towards him without abandon.

“Miss, you can’t–!”

She didn’t hear it. The only thing that registered in her brain was Grant. Her body instantly connected with his and the feeling was all too familiar. With her arms around him, her face buried in his chest, his hands finally holding her again, everything was right.

“It’s okay. She’s with me.”

Everything was not okay. Jemma did not want to hear that expression anymore. Things might finally start to get resolved, but they were far from okay.

“What happened?” she asked gently, but continued to grip onto him as if he would suddenly dissipate.

Grant took a long breath – chest rising and falling steadily as Jemma’s head followed suit lying against it. If possible, he pulled her in closer. She didn’t resist.

“I called the cops on my father.”

It was a simple sentence that stated the obvious Jemma already discerned on her way in here. But the fact that those words came out of his mouth and that he finally surrendered was more telling and important than anything else.

She wanted to say how proud she was that he finally made this decision. She wanted to express her relief in not needing to keep this secret any longer. A part of her wanted to tell him that she always knew this was the right thing to do and that he should’ve done so months if not years ago.

But Jemma remained where she stood in his arms, exactly where she needed to be, where she was supposed to be. And she rubbed his back and held on tight and repeatedly murmured, “I’m right here.”

\--

When she finally managed to let go, Jemma took in the egregious sight surrounding her: a lamp evidently upturned and then hastily put back up with its crooked shade, a marked-off puddle of some liquid on the ground, shattered glass of the bottle that presumably held what Jemma now supposed was spilled alcohol, Luca – oh, Luca – trying his best to remain stoic and strong though visibly shaken and upset.

Not to mention the dark marks on both siblings’ faces.

There wasn’t really time for her to get the whole story. The police had yet to take Grant’s father down to the station and they were still trying to locate his mother who was mysteriously and conveniently missing. The officers kept pressing for the brothers to come down and make official statements, but Jemma suspected it was because they needed to deal with the grand scheme of things considering the years of abuse Grant had endured and what the future would entail.

She briefly fought to go with until the rapid-fire number of no’s shot down the notion.

“I need you to stay here,” Grant told her solemnly, almost desperately. “Please.”

So Jemma let them go and retreated home in a state of worry and distress. By the time her parents got home, she was a withering mess and ended up telling her mother everything she knew since the beginning of November.

“What was I supposed to do? What am I supposed to do?” Jemma questioned out loud in her mother’s embrace. She hated feeling so weak and powerless in this kind of situation. What solution could she possibly offer? How much was her solace worth? She didn’t pretend to know what to do – especially when she recognized that issues ran deeper than the physical inflictions of pain.

Still, Jemma put pressure on herself to be the anchor that kept Grant standing and upright. If she was the only light in the darkness, she needed to shine.

\--

Jemma didn’t see him again until Sunday. With Grant still overly cautious, she waited until he gave the okay before rushing over in the afternoon while his mother dealt with legal work.

She watched as he fumbled around – evidently grateful for her presence, but completely confused as to what to do. The tired look on his face influenced the rest of his body now finally giving way to the blows and injuries suffered throughout the years. Grant told her about his hospital visit, but didn’t go into detail about his actual condition. Jemma had a pretty good sense of the physical problems anyway.

Eventually, she led him into the living room couch. Sitting, he sighed deeply and pulled her legs over his lap as Jemma scooted right beside him. And they stayed like that for some time. Where Grant could find a rhythmic and unlabored breathing pattern by playing with the fabric of Jemma’s jeans while she caressed the skin near the inside of his elbow and was more than content watching him gain serenity.

“What happened?” she asked softly.

“He took it too far. And I snapped.”

Grant slowly recalled the events in a detailed, but succinct manner. How he and Luca arrived home to their already drunk father. How he instantly recognized the situation and made executive decisions to protect his brother. How he sent Luca away so he could face their father alone and no doubt take a beating if necessary.

He stopped for a moment to see Jemma brush away the tears forming in her eyes and snaked an arm around her waist to hold her closer.

How he took a few hits to see if his father would cool down. How not fighting back only made the situation worse. How his father took a bottle of liquor and threw it at him – barely missing Grant before it hit the wall. How at the sound of shattered glass and multiple other crashes, Luca reentered the scene and consequently became the new target of his father’s imbibed state of rage.

“I tried so hard…” Grant told her, his voice now audibly shaken and delicate. “I tried so hard to keep Luca out of this, to protect him.” Jemma tucked herself into his embrace. “But I failed.”

“You didn’t.”

How he then punched his father in the face more than once. How he shoved Luca back upstairs and locked the two of them in his room. How the sight of his little brother and the sounds of shouting and pounding at his barricaded door pushed him over the edge to finally call the police.

“You did what you had to do. His abuse was baseless and unwarranted.”

“Maybe, maybe not,” Grant replied. She looked up in confusion.

“I… never told you the whole story.”

\--

“I have an older sister, Sheridan,” he began. “She’s ten years older than me.” Which explained a lot considering Jemma never knew or met this older sister. And judging by the fact that this was the first time hearing about her, surely this girl, or woman rather, was not currently an integral part of the Ward family.

“When she was in high school, she had all sorts of problems. Couldn’t keep up here and transferred to Minuteman. Hung out with the wrong crowd, was an alcoholic at seventeen, and then went to rehab. But when she came back, even sober, she was still the same. Just… all over the place. And one day she packed and left with her then boyfriend. None of us have heard from her since. I… I think that was probably the first sign of my parents losing control over their kids.”

He paused for a moment too short as Jemma tried to keep up with all this new information tossed her way. She hated that she was right, that there was much more to the story than she originally saw.

“And then Maynard, my older brother…” Jemma opened her mouth to stop him, to catch her breath, but he squeezed her hand to indicate a need to continue. “He was… my father’s favorite, the golden child. And he was messed up too, but he got away with things. He, um… was actually the first one to hit me. Parents chalked it up to boys being boys, but–”

“That’s no excuse,” she finished.

“No matter what I told them, they didn’t listen. And he knew our dad backed him no matter what, so there was no stopping him.”

“Oh, Grant. You were practically a child. You can’t put that on yourself,” Jemma tried to reason. Grant only shook his head.

“That wasn’t even the problem. I mean, yeah, his attitude and disturbing sense of humor was kind of scary back then, but at least there was still some semblance of a family unit, even with my sister’s disappearance. My dad didn’t turn into the person he is now until…”

“Until…?”

“Until he found out that Maynard wasn’t his son, but the product of an affair my mother had.”

\--

The turn of events Grant described had Jemma’s mind reeling. Her hand flew up to cover her wide-open mouth in shock at all the family drama Grant endured. He didn’t sign up for any of the problems his family members caused, yet was dragged into the middle of things and unfairly hurt because of their deranged carelessness.

He had been right after all. She didn’t know anything.

“Once Maynard was out of my life, he was out of my life. But by the time he left home, nothing was the same anymore.”

Jemma could only imagine the arduous pains of trying to live up to a parent’s expectations set for someone else to reach. That no matter how hard he tried, Grant would always be a disappointment in his father’s eyes.

“And your mother?”

“She checked out for the most part.” Jemma could attest to that considering that particular moment she passed the woman and the fact that she wasn’t there for her two youngest sons when they needed her. To think that they had basically lived the past few years without true parental guidance was appalling and disheartening. But it also spoke volumes on Grant’s dedication to protect his little brother.

“So, now you know. All of it,” he said quietly. He looked down, gently scratching a fingernail at the seam of her pants to occupy his mind. As if it wasn’t a big deal and that he hadn’t previously teared up in front of her while talking about his broken family.

But Jemma knew. She knew how big this was for him. He finally opened up. He finally showed true colors. He finally admitted that everything wasn’t okay. And for a person who rarely showed weakness and asked for help to do so, that was huge.

“Kind of wish you hadn’t got involved, right?”

“Never.”

\--

Returning from spring vacation, Grant rightfully took the first couple of days off to figure out a more stable situation at home. Besides, as a second semester senior, he was surely allowed some leeway.

His absence, though, was telling throughout the school campus. Everton might not be a small town, but the news definitely traveled fast. Of course, rumors spread like wildfire and stories grew more egregious by the period. A few people dared to ask Jemma about any additional information she might be privy to; she only walked away.

“Ohmygod, I feel terrible!” Skye said. “I’m so sorry. I had no idea!” Those were words more for Grant’s ears, but Jemma still squeezed her friend’s hand and smiled appreciatively at the apology.

Trip, who was probably the second most knowledgeable person outside the immediate Ward family, gave her a solemn nod of acknowledgement during physics and that was enough. There was nothing to discuss on the matter when both understood their roles perfectly.

The day Grant did come back to school, eyes followed his every move. Students stared and whispered, but none save for a few brave souls, including Skye, dared to approach him with support. And for the first time, Jemma saw clearly through his stoic expression as others watched him warily; he did not like the attention one bit.

What was once a table full of jocks and other popular kids at lunch was now down to just Grant and Trip. Jemma didn’t think twice about walking right over to sit next to him as if she had always belonged in their group. Skye followed soon after with Fitz trailing her.

“I swear to God, you guys better help me out because I cannot stand to hear another word about their ridiculous science project anymore!” Skye exclaimed.

“Well, for mine, I researched into solar panels and–” Trip commented, but was interrupted by Skye’s loud groan.

As the others jabbered on, Jemma felt Grant take her hand in her lap. She looked up to him and there it was: a sign of hope and light and the guy that she would always fight for.

Jemma never ceased to warm at his secret smiles.

\--

“I was wrong.”

Things settled as much as they could given the circumstances. Grant and Trip seemingly became permanent lunch buddies after true friendships and loyalties had been tested. Furtive glances and gossipy whispers subsided for the most part, but the supposed private ordeal sure got its fair share of publicity.

And then it was as if nothing had ever happened between them. Which on one hand was dangerous because simply glossing over the underlying issues certainly didn’t resolve anything. But then again, Jemma was just glad to have found her way back into Grant’s life again.

He was still the same for the most part: all silent and aloof and broody. But the old Grant didn’t ask for help and if he did, it was with excruciating effort to admit to that weakness. Yet now admitting to seeing someone that clearly was not another girl on the side meant that he was getting the professional aid he needed. The old Grant also didn’t admit his wrongs while lying in her lap either. Nevertheless, here he was on the living room couch at Jemma’s house doing just that.

“About what?” she responded quietly while stroking the skin below the hem of his shirtsleeve.

“What I said before. About you. You’re not nothing.”

Oh. 

To be quite honest, Jemma hadn’t thought about those words in a while with obvious other difficulties to deal with. Him bringing it up now was like a wave of an unfortunate aftertaste she would rather not remember. It weighed on her mind heavily when he said it the first time and now it was seemingly happening again.

Grant caught her fingers mid-caress and looked at her earnestly. “You’re not,” he repeated.

“Then what was it?” she couldn’t help but ask.

“I–” She watched his eyes search for the right words to use – as if they materialized in front of him and all he had to do was make sure to unscramble them correctly during their delivery.

But Jemma knew, even with therapy, it would never be that easy for him.

\--

“You were a distraction,” he started. “Not in the way you would normally think. But because you were there and you knew, it was easy to go there. You already knew the answers to all the basic questions so there was no need to be secretive or whatever. I didn’t have to think too much and that was what I needed. I just didn’t expect things between us to get so… complicated.”

“Grant, you’re life was complicated before I got here,” Jemma pointed out. The last thing she wanted was to be another problematic source for him. And as much as she wanted to be there in his life, she would willingly bow out if that were the case. “If I caused–”

“No! You didn’t,” he quickly interrupted. “I just… You weren’t supposed to get sucked into it. You were just supposed to be this– this…”

“Distraction?” she provided. He sat up then. The silence spoke for itself and now they were back where they started.

She didn’t want him to continue struggling like this, but she had a right to know; he had a duty to explain to her the truth.

“That night, that first night during Thanksgiving break. I came to you because I needed you then. And to some degree, maybe I still do. I needed our relationship. To distract me. To give me something else to think about. To balance things out in my life. But that’s not why I stayed or came back.”

She took in his whole face – the unwavering expression, the rock-solid eyes, a new determination.

“I came because I needed you. I stayed because… because I wanted to.”

And Jemma sat dumbstruck for probably a moment too long as the words sank in and made their full impact – a direct hit and eruption of what used to be her heart now completely in his hands.

People dreamt of happy little romances because they could not possibly fathom the irrevocable and all-consuming power of love. Only in defining moments like these did individuals like Jemma finally and truly believe in both science and faith.

“Do you understand?”

She didn’t remember nodding, but the way he kissed her – sweet and passionate and full of the want he spoke of – indicated so.

“You’re everything.”


	4. Summer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I must confess, this long awaited last chapter is not my best work. The reason for the slow update is technically due a busy personal life, but more about my sudden disenchantment with the piece after rereading it. I told the story I wanted to, but the style and tone slipped most likely because this was never supposed to be a long multi-chapter piece. I even had a epilogue planned, but unfortunately will not be writing it. Alas, this final chapter is dedicated to you all loyal readers who I refused to let down. Thank you all for sticking with me!

The slow process of watching Grant try to figure things out for himself was almost as painful as the days Jemma was on the receiving end of his callous manner. She got that it was a defense mechanism he built a long time ago and didn’t fault him for keeping himself shielded. But with that, she recognized that simply deciding to change didn’t automatically make desired results happen.

He showed what he had to for the world: at lunch when his behavior and attitude was on display, in between classes when his presence stood looming in the hallways, in the parking lot when he got into his car and drove himself, his brother, and occasionally Jemma home. There was little place for him to uncover all that was buried inside of him and she knew it. Because even with her, alone in the safe confines of her homey bedroom, she could see his retraction despite his apparent attempts to reveal vulnerability.

“It’s okay, you know,” Jemma told him gently one night.

“It’s not,” he replied, knowing the exact topic of conversation based on her few words.

“Yes, it is,” she reassured. Her feet paddled her forward as they resumed their usual positions with him on the edge of the bed and her on the computer chair. His hands reached for hers without hesitation. As much as it was a comfort to her knowing that he needed her, that he wanted her around, it was also a reminder of his horrid past and everything he had been through.

“No one is asking you to figure out all the answers over night. No one expects you to take all of this on.”

“Someone has to,” he countered.

“And why does it have to be you?” Jemma saw the fight in his eyes – all the reasons he found and believed in that made past events his fault and responsibility when nothing could be further from the truth.

“You’ve been through so much and”–he looks away–“I think you’ve forgotten that you’re only eighteen. You’re in high school.” The fact that they were still relatively kids in the grand scheme of things had escaped her mind plenty of times during this past school year.

“I just want you to… see the world again. In a new light. A different one.”

“I do see it, sometimes,” Grant replied. Jemma looked at him – hopeful and endearingly. “I see it with you.”

\--

“Are you nervous?”

“Nervous? About what?”

“Um, giving some gigantic speech about this completely unreadable poster board you and Fitz put together since like September and potentially losing your special little science fair prize to Trip or, I don’t know, some lowly sophomore.”

Jemma giggled at Skye’s virtual naiveté. The year was almost up and yet there were times where she still seemed like the new student she was.

“We’re not going to lose,” Jemma stated as a matter of fact. “To Trip or to anyone else for that matter.”

“Because you and Fitz are geniuses, right.”

“No, because we’re prepared,” Jemma insisted. “Because we’ve done all the work. The research, the experimentation, it’s all there in the most thorough way possible. Just look at this evidence. I can’t imagine anyone–”

“Okay, stop!” Skye interrupted and put her hand up in Jemma’s face before she could say another word. “I don’t think I can take another minute about your... particle whatever thing.”

“Have you not been listening to a word we’ve told you?”

“Did you not remember the part where I dropped out of Fitz’s AP Physics class the first week of school?” Skye reminded Jemma.

“You could’ve done it. You’re smarter than you give yourself credit for.”

“Yeah, and then I would have been required to do some sucky project too. No thanks. I think I’ll just suffer a day of Spanish alone. But good luck anyway,” Skye said with a quick hug before the girls went their separate ways as Jemma had to go prepare her setup with Fitz for their presentation.

It was hard to believe that this would be her last entry into the annual science fair project. Anything she did after this would certainly be more official – not just for a little prize and title on her list of honors and achievements, but perhaps discoveries and inventions that could change the world she knew.

That was what she loved about her work. That was what made the future so riveting. That was what Jemma worked for.

“Send me a picture of the trophy when you get it?” Skye called over her shoulder at the end of the corridor.

“I’ll even let you hold it!”

\--

After their undisputed win, Jemma’s and Fitz’s parents take them out for a celebratory dinner. Skye got her promised time with the grand prize and unsuccessfully tried to pass it off as hers during lunch much to everyone else’s amusement.

“Are you sure you don’t want–”

“Yes, for the hundredth time, Grant. I’m sure,” Jemma insisted. As sweet as it was that he wanted to do something special for her, she would much rather have him focus on himself. She didn’t need lavish gifts or attention. Jemma just wanted them to be there for each other. Spending time with him was enough – more than she could have ever hoped for.

The number of moments, months, years Jemma spent thinking about the mere possibility was an insurmountable amount that Jemma felt rather embarrassed about considering the larger picture. There were still days now she couldn’t quite believe how things turned out and the fact that she and Grant were more than just neighbors or classmates. In the future, she didn’t have to describe him as just an acquaintance or a missed opportunity. No, Grant was a definitive part of her life and if she had it her way, he would be for a very long time.

“Luca will understand if I cancel–”

“You are not canceling dinner with your brother,” she stated firmly.

“It’s just pizza. At home. On the couch.”

“He’s your brother. He needs you.”

“I need you,” Grant countered quietly. Jemma gave him a sweet smile, stood up on her tiptoes and kissed him. It felt nice to be needed like that – that he saw her as an important part of his life he put effort into sustaining. The enormity of such mutuality and reciprocity would never cease to amaze Jemma.

“Then what time should I be there?”

Grant grinned.

\--

Just as Jemma went to ring the bell, the Wards’ front door swung open to reveal Grant slinging on his leather jacket with car keys in hand.

“Hey,” he greeted her. “Trip’s parents are going out of town so he’s coming over. That’s okay, right?”

“Yeah, of course.”

“Okay, I’ve gotta go get him and I’ll pick up the pizza on the way. Luca is inside. Make sure he doesn’t… burn down the house or something while I’m gone,” he said with a glint in his eye. Jemma nodded in acknowledgement as she righted his jacket. “Be back soon,” he promised and kissed her on the forehead before heading down the porch steps to the car. Jemma leaned against the open doorway and waited to go inside after Grant’s car disappeared down the street.

The Ward residence had seemingly become further barren after the arrest and slight shift in dynamic. In Jemma’s eyes, it had always been Grant running the place and taking care of his brother regardless of the presence or absence of his parents. There was still a general lack of color and comfort. The remnants of the broken furniture had been cleaned and replaced.

It still wasn’t much of a home, which was why Jemma insisted that Grant spend time with his brother. She hoped that they could salvage what was left of their family. Even if it were down to the last two sons, Jemma would aid in every effort to keep relations amicable and supportive.

“He’s different, you know.” Her attention snapped to Luca on the couch playing his video game. His focused remained on the television screen as he continued to click on the buttons of his controller, but clearly was addressing the only other person in the room.

“I’m sorry?”

“Grant. He’s different than he used to be.” Luca said.

“I wouldn’t expect anything less considering what he’s been through. What you both have been through,” Jemma replied.

“It’s more than that. You’ve changed him.”

The way he uttered those words, as a matter of fact rather than some massive revelation, took her breath away for a moment. As if she had this superpower that produced some godly miracle on him. Jemma didn’t see things like that at all. Moreover, she felt the exact opposite: conventional and futile. To think that she could have created anything that substantial in someone instead of something was astonishing. And she didn’t even know if it was a good or bad thing until Luca spoke again.

“It’s better now,” he told her. “He’s better now.”

\--

The smell of pizza hit quickly as Grant returned with the food and Trip. She insisted that they eat in the kitchen rather than all over themselves in the living room like they preferred. Grant said nothing to object or concur, but the secret smile he gave her while they get the plates and cups told her more than what words could say.

The Ward family was in shambles, but the four of them there eating together, sharing stories, laughing, and enjoying each others’ company provided more than just an adequate substitute for Grant and his brother. They didn’t need stuffy and proper meals filled with stress and tension from dysfunctional family relationships. Keeping up appearances with blood relatives didn’t make a home.

Jemma looked over at Grant beside her and loved what she saw: his grin, his ease, the smudge of pizza sauce on his chin that she wiped with her thumb. He was comfortable; he was free of stress. And that light, joy, and openness projecting from his face lit up the room in ways the bland décor never could.

“What?” Grant asked when she stayed behind for cleanup duty with him while Trip joined Luca back in the living room.

“Nothing,” she answered and blushed when he didn’t look convinced. She buried her head against his shoulder to hide the flush and giddiness knowing that he saw it too. Or at least, he noticed that she was experiencing something. His arm went around her waist to hold her and she moved in closer into his embrace.

In that moment, Jemma felt all she had only ever considered come to life.

“I love you,” she told him, quietly, simply, undoubtedly. And when she felt Grant’s other arm go around to hug her with all his being, she needed nothing else.

They eventually got the dishes done all the while exchanging glances and smiles with each other. In the background, Trip and Luca upped the ante regarding their video game and the sounds of their trash talk and simulated explosions filled into the ambiance of the house as Grant pushed Jemma against the refrigerator door in a passionate kiss.

\--

It didn’t occur to Jemma until Bobbi Morse, who headed the school newspaper, approached her and Grant in hand about her college destination that she didn’t know what he had planned for his future after school.

“MIT, that’s awesome,” Bobbi commented as she jotted the information down.

“Thanks, Bobbi. Congrats on Emory,” she replied in likeness.

“Thanks. What about you, Grant?”

Jemma’s eyes shifted to look up at him. She could feel his body tense at the question prying into his personal life, even if it was something as harmless as future plans. Bobbi meant nothing of it, but Jemma was well aware of Grant’s hypersensitivity to discussing anything about himself as if he could reveal some damaging secret that would further derail his recovery.

She squeezed his hand encouragingly as his eyes shifted to her for help. Anyone else wouldn’t have seen it – the small panic in his eyes, the unwilling nature, the urge to shift back and pull away. Grant Ward didn’t ask for help, didn’t show vulnerability. But Jemma knew better. It didn’t come naturally, but he was trying in his own way.

“I’m taking a year off,” he eventually said. And in the end, that answer didn’t surprise Jemma one bit.

“Oh, cool. Okay, great, thanks!” Bobbi said without hesitation and nodded goodbye before strolling back down the hallway. Grant tugged on Jemma’s hand and they made their way to the library before the late bell rang.

They took their usual table in the back and Grant took care to sit in the seat facing the wall of shelves and books. She could see that it still bothered him, that he felt uncomfortable divulging things about himself as miniscule as they were.

“There’s nothing to be ashamed about,” Jemma told him softly as she stood beside him.

“I’m not ashamed,” he insisted.

“Then what’s wrong?”

“This wasn’t the plan.”

He meant college, his broken family, his father’s current legal predicament at the fault of his hands. Jemma knew that nothing turned out how either of them thought it was supposed to. Yet despite that, the seriousness of the issue and the turmoil that was now Grant’s life, Jemma smiled at his words.

“What?”

“Was I ever part of the plan?” she asked. He stared in contemplation before giving her a curt shake of the head.

“Then maybe your plan was always going to change.”

\--

Their last weeks were exciting and lackadaisical, culminating in final exams that didn’t seem to quite matter as much with prom and graduation, summer and college on the horizon. Their futures were within sight and grasp – tantalizing and taunting as everyone rushed to get the rest of high school out of their system.

“So, explain to me why you’re not going to prom again,” Skye said for the nth time.

“I told you. Grant can’t go. He has to go to court or something.”

“At night…”

“During the day. But surely he’ll be drained from the events. He has to see his dad again and I really don’t blame him for not wanting to go to some high school party afterwards,” Jemma reasoned.

“You don’t want to him to feel alone so you’re going to miss out on the biggest night of your high school career?”

Fitz came up to them with a snort as he caught the last moment of their conversation. “Did you really just refer to prom as the ‘biggest night’ of our time here?”

“You’re not going either?” Skye exclaimed.

“I have better things to do than dress up in a monkey suit and socialize,” he said as a matter of fact.

The truth was Jemma never planned on going to prom from the get-go, not when she had never attended a single school dance since their inception and her eligibility. She’d much rather sit at home in her jammies with a good book or even have a movie marathon. Though she enjoyed dressing up every once in a while, the exposure of prom just wasn’t her cup of tea.

“But you guys are going to the all night party after graduation, right?” Skye asked.

“I believe our attendance there is required,” Fitz commented.

“Really?”

“We’ll be there,” Jemma said with a reassuring smile. Skye’s desire for their company was endearing. When she was the kind of girl so used to moving and leaving people behind, it was a comfort to know that she considered this little town of theirs home and cared for the friendships she made here.

“And Ward? He agreed too?”

“I can be very persuasive,” Jemma said with a grin.

\--

On prom night, Jemma goes over the Skye’s house to help her get ready: the dress, the makeup, and whole shebang. The white dress was perfect on her and for a moment made Jemma envious of the glitz and glamour she would be missing out on.

“Not too late to change your mind!” Skye insisted. But Jemma only giggled and shook her head.

“No ticket and no dress,” she reminded her friend. “And you’re going to be late if you continue stall.” She hugged Skye who promised tons of pictures and stories before the girls parted – Skye to the school to board the bus while Jemma made her way home on foot.

The night was ordinary. She talked to Fitz on the phone for a while, had dinner with her parents, and did a little more research about life and work at MIT fully intending to hit the ground running once she officially step foot on campus there as one of their students. Jemma didn’t even hear the doorbell ring until there was a knock on her bedroom door and a face she would never tire of seeing.

“My mum let you in?”

“Your dad, actually,” Grant replied with a sheepish grin.

“Well, look at that. Someone’s making progress,” she quipped as he pulled her into her arms on the bed. “How’d it go?”

“It… went,” he answered vaguely, which she more or less expected. “Can we talk, or, not talk about this another time?” She nodded in accord. There were times to push and times to pull back. Jemma sometimes found the balancing act incredibly difficult because she was both considering her needs and his at the same time.

“You didn’t have to stay for me, you know,” Grant said, referring to prom. “You could’ve gone. Had a good time.” Jemma shook her head firmly. She was trying to keep Grant in mind regarding her decisions and actions and here he was doing the exact same thing for her. When he was more known for his broody manner, his selfless side rarely got the recognition it deserved.

“I never wanted to go.”

“Not even with me?” Her eyes bulged with surprise and light at his comment and insinuation before she burst into giggles.

“I think you know the answer to that,” she said simply and then descended her lips onto his.

\--

Graduation was as spectacular as a high school graduation could be. Four years of secondary education culminated in a few hours of waiting, walking, and receiving that coveted first diploma. The glee and smiles on some faces like Skye’s were triumphant and satisfying, but for people like Jemma, this was just the beginning of a long journey ahead.

The party that night hosted by the school was no doubt fun and enjoyable, but turned nostalgic halfway through as Jemma recognized that this was most likely the last time the entire class would be together in one place. Even for all the people she never talked to or didn’t care much for, the sentiment of their last moments together weighed on her.

Her yearbook filled up with signatures and sweet messages would be a nice reminder of the good times she shared with her friends in high school. Skye made her get a matching tattoo on her ankle as a symbol of their unexpected yet wonderful friendship. And when she received her letter that everyone wrote to themselves their freshman year at Everton High, she smiled thinking about her younger self: a little more innocent and boyfriend-less, but not all that different than who she was now.

“Yours is thin,” she commented when she found Grant with his. He folded the paper away from her eyes and shrugged his shoulders.

“Didn’t have much to say.”

“If only it could work the other way around. Writing a letter to our younger selves…”

“Yeah,” he said with a solemn nod. “What about you? Anything good?”

“Science fair won. Accepted to MIT. You know, the usual,” she said flippantly before giving herself away with a shining grin.

“Right, of course,” Grant played along as he slung his arm around her shoulder.

“There was one thing though,” she added in the end. “Wasn’t expecting it to happen, but it did.”

“Yeah? What’s that?”

“I got the guy.”

\--

For the first time ever, Jemma’s summer was wide open. When she was younger, camp after camp occupied those precious couple of months before the new school year. In high school, she sought after every internship opportunity she could get her hands on to gain experience and knowledge in order to increase her chances of getting into her dream school. Now, with everything in place, all goals up to this point completed, she had New England summer days in hand to do as she pleased.

Naturally, she spent the first week after graduation at home and around town doing absolutely nothing. Fitz left with his mother to visit family while Grant accompanied his mother to hopefully break ties with his father once and for all. Which left Skye who promised to stay for the majority of the summer before embarking on her never-ending road trip.

“So, have you decided?”

“On what?”

“On Austin?” Jemma asked a little too innocently. Now that her love life had been more or less solved, at least for the foreseeable future, she turned the attention back to Skye, who Jemma knew was still slightly hung up on her ex-boyfriend regardless of what she said. “Don’t give me that look. I know you’ve been thinking about it.”

“There’s no point in going back,” Skye answered.

“You don’t know that, Skye. You have to try for the slightest chance that it does work out. Believe me, I would know,” Jemma told her. She had never completely given up on Grant when they had been apart. Though their relationship might have appeared to be kaput, she never truly stopped thinking or at least hoping that things could work out – that in the grand scheme of things, there was still that possibility. After all, she had waited all these years for him.

If only she could transfer that kind of patience to Skye.

“Do you want to?” she asked. Skye pressed her lips into a hard line, but eventually nodded. “Then just go.”

“That simple, huh?”

“Sometimes? Yes, it is,” Jemma replied in earnest.

“Who died and made you the guru on love?” Skye quipped and elbowed Jemma.

It was strange after all. Not even a year ago and she would’ve avoided just about any and every conversation that had to do with romantic relationships. Now, though evidently not an expert, she knew a lot more than she did before. She had learned and grew so much in ways she never imagined with Grant. Their relationship wasn’t about appearances or some kind of physical release. It was a lesson, a turning point in both their lives.

It was a blessed gift that Jemma would cherish no matter what happened between them in the future.

\--

 

With nothing but bright and sunny days ahead, Grant took her on a string of dates to shake off yet simultaneously add on the memories of their high school years.

They went to lunch at Harvard Square, walked hand-in-hand through Boston Commons. He even took her to the Museum of Science. And while normally Jemma didn’t consider Grant so outwardly social and open, there was anonymity outside of the confines of their particular suburban town. He didn’t have to be Grant Ward, a former victim of domestic abuse. He could just be Grant – honestly and unashamedly.

He took her to a baseball game – a sport Jemma never really cared to take interest in. But she indulged him and had a good time sharing a bag of peanuts and listening to Grant go on about particular players and home team. He kept his arm around her shoulder the majority of the game and threw this gorgeous grin at her every so often that seemed to send the girls sitting next to her into some oddly quiet frenzy. Jemma didn’t get it at first until there was a suspicious photograph taken with them in the background.

He was trying to make them jealous.

“You’re doing it on purpose,” Jemma said into Grant’s ear.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Grant replied. But the sly expression on his face gave it all away.

Just about everyone else would think that he was doing it for attention because he knew he could. Jemma knew better. He was doing it for her.

In this convoluted, decidedly nonverbal and conclusively Grant way, he eluded the use of words in favor of demonstration. Enouncement would never be his forte, but he found other ways to convey his thoughts and feelings. Here, now, Grant was not bragging about himself, but rather her. In this roundabout way, he was actually showing her off.

Jemma, getting the message loud and clear, grabbed his chin for an indulgent and very public kiss as the crowd erupted in cheers for a play on the field.

\--

Trip invited all of them to his family’s summerhouse on the Cape and Skye proceeded to scream “Road trip!” in Jemma’s ear with shameless enthusiasm. They took two cars there – the boys in one and the girls in another.

While Jemma was more than use to spending long periods of time together with Skye, being in a car with this particular friend for over two hours straight was a whole other ordeal. Between Skye’s constant need to change the radio station and her penchant for checking and updating her phone every ten minutes, the ride was, to say the least, wild.

“Who are you texting for goodness sake?!” Jemma squealed as Skye kept shifting her eyes up to the road and down on her lap. “You do know that texting and driving is illegal in this state, right?”

“Just some friends,” Skye answered noncommittally. “Chill out. We’re not going to get killed. And you’re riding shotgun. Why aren’t you texting Ward?”

“Because he’s driving!” Then, after Skye gave her a pointed look, she exasperatedly demanded, “What?!”

“So that’s how the relationship is going, huh.”

“And what’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means,” Skye emphasized with a dramatic pause. “No one’s getting laid.”

It was a very good thing that Jemma was not driving–not that she knew how to yet anyway–because she surely would have accidently swerved into the other lane or ran a red light or some equally as disastrous. Her face turned bright red and considering the fully blasted air condition in the car, her speechless expression revealed everything.

“Gotta live more wildly, Jemma. Break the rules sometimes,” Skye quipped. Jemma only crossed her arms and stared at the car with her boyfriend inside in front of them.

“But I like following the rules,” she insisted. Their lives could use a little more of that – standards and policies for adherence and regularity. To do something brash would be foolish and only asking for more trouble.

“I’m just saying…” Skye said with a shrug of her shoulders.

“Well, your virginal sixteen-year-old friend is ‘just saying’ that there are others issues in her relationship that need to be sorted out first,” Jemma retorted, reminding her friend the fact that she was younger than them all and despite the trend of adolescent recklessness and self-exploration, she would never play by those rules when there was much more at stake.

“So if you’re done invading my relationship with Grant and _texting_ ”–she grabbed Skye’s phone out of her hand–“let us try to get there in one piece, shall we?”

\--

The topic wasn’t so easily dropped, though. More than anything, Skye and her signature candor kept it up. And every time, Jemma would quickly hush her up and make some excuse for them to sneak away so the embarrassment regarding the issue wouldn’t read so easily on her face.

When the girls went shopping at the local boutiques along the beach, every single piece of swimwear Skye handed her to try on was some rather scandalous skimpy bikini that left little to imagine. That, or it was short and strapless sundresses Jemma would never be caught in in a million years. Seeing eyes wander over the lingerie section, she promptly pulled on Skye’s hand right out of the store.

Jemma would be lying if she said she never thought about it. Of course she had. But it never felt appropriate. It wasn’t the right time.

She wasn’t ready.

She was a still a teenager, a kid compared to the rest of them. And though there were plenty of times when she acted more mature than the rest, when those two measly years meant absolutely nothing at all, this wasn’t one of those situations. Jemma had a great life full of potential ahead of her. She had goals and morals and even though Grant was absolutely the person she wanted to be with her first time, losing her virginity at this age was just not a smart decision to make.

And Jemma had a sneaking suspicion that Grant understood. There was no need to rush things, to make absolute promises when previous supposed guarantees had backfired and disappointed them. They did not need to figure out forever at the moment and worry about all the details of the future. As much as Jemma enjoyed planning and keeping to a schedule, even she knew when it was best to take things slow and day-by-day.

Grant would always be part of her life. Considering the last remnants of her disbelief still sitting in her stomach, she was more than happy with what she had been given.

And so that one evening she stood on the Triplett’s beach house porch to watch a magnificent sunset, Jemma was not all that disappointed she missed it with Grant’s lips kissing hers with innocent intent and endless ardor.

\--

“Why are you doing all of this?”

“What do you mean?”

The question was simple enough. The ambiguity, though, made the response much more telling. In his attempt to make up for the missed sunset view, Grant took Jemma by the hand in the afternoon and laid a blanket down on the sand for them. Molded into his side, Jemma looked at him as they lied there in content silence.

“This,” she emphasized for clarity if it did. “Everything.”

“Because I want to.” The answer was equally as meek as the question – defiant in a very Grant way, but suffice for a reply.

“You, wanted to go to the science museum with me and watch a sunset together…” Jemma said with skepticism.

“You wanted to.”

“And what do you want?” she asked him.

“Who said I wanted anything?”

She nudged him at that. For all things she never pressed for and let slide, this was one she wouldn’t. Trying to get reactions out of Grant wasn’t always the easiest task. Though she had made significant progress lowering his guard, it was up to him to finish the job. Jemma could help him get there, but in the end, he was the one that held the power of assent.

Jemma felt his sigh–deep and slow–as he tried to formulate an appropriate answer for her.

“I just want you,” Grant admitted quietly as he kept his head straight and stared at anything but her.

“I’m right here,” she reminded him.

“But I won’t be. We’re moving.”

“I know.” Grant sat up and looked at her then and she slowly followed suit. “It’s kind of hard to miss the number of boxes around your house. Where are you guys going?”

“California,” he told her as a hand ran through his hair in frustration. “My mom has family there and if things hadn’t happened the way… you know, then I’d be going to Stanford in September.”

“Seems like a good idea, though. Getting a fresh start.”

“It doesn’t change anything. It only…” The unsaid words hung in the air between them. They didn’t need to be uttered; Jemma knew exactly what was on Grant’s mind. While his family might be rebuilding over there, a new beginning just masked the past. Though none of them had to face the scrutiny there they did here being the town’s biggest news story in who knew how long, sometimes pretending was just as bad.

“I know,” she said softly, setting her chin gently on his shoulder as she rubbed circles on his back. The lights of the sunset reflected on his face poignantly and Jemma kissed those unforgettable cheekbones of his.

“I know.”

\--

Fitz was waiting when they returned and Jemma told him a good many things that most male friends would never care to listen to or understand regarding their female friend’s love life.

“What am I supposed to do?”

“What you always do,” Fitz said as a matter of fact. Jemma could always depend on him – his unwavering tone and answer for everything.

“How is that going to be–”

“It’s enough, Jemma,” Fitz insisted. “He needs support, not smothering.”

“It’s not that easy, Fitz.”

“Yes. Yes, it is.”

In retrospect, this was perhaps what every high school couple went through: the imminent separation once they set off to different schools, on different paths. It was the reason those relationships were rarely sustained. Even in their particular situation, Jemma and Grant were dealing with the same dilemma. She was going to stay in Massachusetts while he was about to move three thousand miles away to the other side of the country.

“No. No. Don’t even go there,” Fitz said automatically, knowing exactly what she was thinking.

“But–”

“No, Jemma. You have no reason to doubt yourself or anything at all. So just stop. You’re of no use to me that way. Unless you want me to tell everyone about that day in biology when you–”

“That was one time!” she shrieked in dismay at the one tiny piece of incriminating evidence Fitz had on her and was apparently willing to use in this scenario.

“Right, well. That settles it then.”

It was easy like that for Fitz or anyone else outside of the relationship. In Jemma’s mind, there were a plethora of variables to take into consideration, to work around, to solve. They made her rethink and reevaluate. Yet weeding through the muck to find true clarity was a useless task she shouldn’t waste time on.

What things ultimately boiled down to was Grant and herself. With all the extra input and factors taken out, the sole two pieces still standing in the end were them.

That was what started the relationship. And hopefully, that was how it would always be.

\--

“You have a van.”

“Isn’t this awesome?!”

Jemma could only stare at the sight in shock and disbelief at the vehicle in the driveway that was apparently going to be both Skye’s future mode of transportation as well as her sleeping quarters.

“You own a van.”

“I know! I can’t believe they actually got it for me. I was just joking around when I said it. Well, I did want it, but didn’t think they would actually get it for me because rules and appearances and all that crap about standards, but holy crap, they actually listened and bought me a van!”

“Your ‘congrats on graduating, welcome to adulthood’ and going-away present is a van.” Jemma couldn't stop repeating herself over and over at the sheer fact that Skye was indeed in possession of this automobile and fully intending to use it on her crazy and unplanned adventure across the country.

“Geez, try to sound more excited,” Skye retorted with a pout.

“I’m happy for you. I really am,” Jemma insisted. “It’s just… You’ll be sleeping in a van?!”

“Kind of the point,” Skye commented. “Since, you know, I won’t really be working and have an endless supply of money on me.”

And while Jemma wouldn’t admit it aloud, she was worried about Skye. Though she knew the girl was infinitely creative and more than capable of taking care of herself, this was not what Jemma pictured for anyone right out of high school. Yet, because Skye had never been interested in sitting in classes and taking notes, this did actually suit her. It gave her the freedom she craved and now there was no person or thing in her way. She just hoped that things turned out for the better in the end.

“Wanna take a ride in it?” Skye asked with a huge grin on her face as she put the key in the ignition and turned the engine on.

“Oh, lord, help me.”

\--

Skye departed on a Saturday, but not before Jemma held one last breakfast–or brunch in this case–at her place.

“First stop?” Fitz asked.

“New York City! Duh,” Skye commented on the apparently obvious.

“So you can stalk Stark Tower?” Jemma added with a smirk.

“Excuse me! No! And I thought you guys would be totally into that. You know, science, and stuff.”

“Oh, sure, yeah. Someday we’ll have a skyscraper of our own, right, Simmons?”

“The Fitzsimmons,” Skye said through giggles. “Sounds more like a hotel chain than business headquarters.”

The conversation and atmosphere proved to be the same as before, but the weight of Skye’s imminent parting sat heavily in Jemma’s mind knowing that it might be a long time until they see each other again. Even with modern day technology and Skye’s undoubted promise to keep in touch, her exit would officially mark their venture into the real world – no longer high school students, but full fledged adults for the most part.

“If anything happens, you’ll call, right? Good or bad, I want to hear about it.”

“I promise.”

“And, uh… Stay safe. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do–”

“That’s not gonna happen.”

“And for the love of God, go to Austin!” Jemma said in conclusion as the girls smiled and embraced.

She had formed such an unlikely yet great relationship with Skye. After seeing her just about every single day for the past year, her absence surely would affect Jemma. And though she wasn’t necessarily losing a confidant, she would be missing a dear friend.

As Skye walked towards her van, she exchanged a few words with Grant walking up the driveway. If Jemma didn’t know any better, the scene would’ve given her a sense of déjà vu. And that just showed her how much her life had really changed.

“Said goodbye?” she asked as Grant came up the porch steps to stand with her.

“Yeah. She also said something about helping you break the rules. Should I be worried?”

Jemma laughed whole-heartedly at the sound of the phrase, no doubt Skye’s parting gift to them. But instead of telling Grant the story, which she would be too embarrassed to even get the words out, she leaned into his side and waved as Skye drove away.

\--

Grant’s room looked much emptier than it had been before now that half its contents had been packed away into their appropriate cardboard boxes. The house was littered with them as they prepared for the movers scheduled to come over tomorrow. Yet none of that bothered Jemma more than the For Sale sign perched on the Ward’s front lawn.

Merely considering the idea that someone else, some other family would eventually settle here and become her new neighbors was unusual. Even if she was off at MIT and living on campus, Jemma couldn’t fathom the idea that Grant would no longer be her next-door neighbor.

“This is all so fast,” she blurted suddenly, frozen in her mindset of watching some of the most important people in her life leave. Grant looked up from his stack of books before making his way over to her on his bed.

“I know,” he said, doing little to assuage her rising anxiety. Not even his comforting presence helped because in one swift moment, everything was coming down on Jemma – hard and fast and unrelenting.

This was really happening. They were all leaving, her included.

“Are we breaking up?” she asked quietly, timid and unsure at the logical answer that she didn’t want to hear. Grant said nothing, but wrapped his arms around her and tucked her head under his chin.

Selfishly, Jemma couldn’t imagine anyone else in this position. No one else could possibly know Grant like she did. No one could understand what he had gone through like she did. Nobody could fit as perfectly as she did into his embrace like she did.

“Tell me this isn’t it,” she said, her voice and tone soft but serious and hopeful in a way that revealed the sliver of confidence she had in them.

And Grant, bless his soul, obliged in an utterly and undoubtedly genuine fashion.

“It’s not,” he said firmly with a kiss to the crown of her head. “It’s not. I love you.”

\--

Jemma stood in the kitchen as she watched the final pieces of luggage hauled out of the house. The movements blurred as they moved faster compared to her perception of time. She shouldn’t even be intruding, but Grant had asked her to come in and now her feet were stuck on the wooden floor. She hadn’t even noticed when they finished, the house barren and ready for their new occupants, until Grant took her hand and pulled her back to reality.

And ultimately, she had nothing left to say to Grant’s words. The goodbye was caught in her throat and wouldn’t budge. She didn’t think she could say it, though, not when she couldn’t mean it. She didn’t know what was going to happen, how things were going to work, but she refused to make this an end.

“Don’t say it,” she told him.

“I wasn’t going to. I don’t need to.” She had to give him credit where it was due. His confidence was the one carrying the both of them through.

Yet Jemma was not immune to the scene playing out in front of her eyes and the emotions it conjured up.

“I love you,” she said in helplessness and desperation to hold onto Grant’s physical form for as long as she could.

“I love you too,” he replied with equal fervor.

The tears formed then, blinding her vision. She tried to shake the finality of the moment, the longing for him though he hadn’t actually left yet. But no matter how she prepared, how she imagined this moment would play out, it was infinitely harder as it unfolded than the ways it occurred in her head.

Nonetheless, in retrospect, this wasn’t actually the hardest thing they’ve had to overcome. No, they already went through that and came out the other side. Besides, they had already broken up before. And if they could find their way back to each other then, Jemma had boundless hope that they were strong enough to endure this too.

“Do you still need me?” she asked, sweetly, optimistically. Grant’s smile matched her sentiment.

“I will always need you.”


End file.
